


All the Pretty Horses

by tinkerbird



Series: All the Pretty Horses [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Intersexuality, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Past Abuse, Sadstuck, Sibling Bonding, Twin Striders, alpha dave is the best parent ever, dave is a cutie baby, dirk is also a cutie baby, probably a lot more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:55:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 23,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkerbird/pseuds/tinkerbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard being a parent. Especially when you're twenty-six, and your kid is a super genius with mental problems and a history of abuse. Luckily you have your brother there to give you help and support that you may or may not have asked for, and your babysitter just so happens to be a snarky babe by the name of Karkat Vantas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like Getting a Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Keeping in mind that I am writing this on very little sleep and only limited knowledge of the adoption process, have some Strider babies.
> 
> I even used my miraculous level of self-control to limit my MSPARP-ing time until I finished at least this chapter. Be very grateful.

==> Be the guy with the sexy aviator shades.

 

You’re not really sure exactly how you went from being a bachelor movie director to a single parent, but whatever the precise explanation, it was all your brother’s fault.

That sounded a little weird out of context. Like you were implying he knocked you up or something, and he obviously didn’t. You’re his brother, and even if that scenario was somehow un-disturbing to you, guys don’t get knocked up outside of Arnold Schwarzenegger movies.

Well, back to the point.

Rewind to this morning, when you were going with your aforementioned brother to pick out a kid from the adoption center. You were kind of excited to be an uncle (even if you’d never admit that to anyone), since you weren’t planning to have any kids of your own. Besides, your bro was the only family you had, and you’d have been lying if you’d said you didn’t like the idea of having at least one more Strider around.

You kind of wondered how this whole thing was going to go. Was it going to be like at the pound, just kind of picking one out and leaving with it? You pictured the two of you being led through a hallway full of little kids in kennels, whimpering at you from behind the bars like puppies. It wasn’t as funny as you thought it would be, but it was still an interesting concept. 

The lady at the front desk directed you to the back room, and you prepared yourself for hundreds of rows of kid-kennels. Thankfully, though, you were greeted with the site of a normal playroom with about enough children to fill a classroom. You both stood still, watching them run about like the little terrors that they were, completely unsure of what to do next. That was when you realized that neither of you were prepared for how awkward this would be.

One of the kids took the initiative to approach you. He was definitely the runt of the litter, unless he was two, but something in the way he carried himself assured you that was not the case. He had to be at least four or five. The kid had the same weird rust-colored eyes as you, and a white-blond mop of hair, cut in a way that instantly made you want to call him Ringo (while also deciding that he’d be no nephew of yours if he didn’t understand the reference). 

“Hey,” said the Ringo boy in an unexpectedly tolerable voice. Not screechy or obnoxious like other kids. Cute, even. He got a few points for that.

“Hey yourself,” answered your bro, kneeling to his eye level.

“I like your shades.” The comment was directed at both of you. He got even more points.

“Thanks, kid.” Bro tousled his hair.

“They make you guys look badass.” A million points for being smaller than most dogs and uttering a curse word.

The lady from before cast him a warning look, which he shrugged off. Okay, so you had to admit the entire exchange was pretty cool. He was a funny kid, if nothing else.

“My name’s Dave,” he told you. Then he sighed. “I’m six. I’m in first grade. I like drawing comics and rap music. I don’t do sports. I’m okay with animals, but I like birds the best. I eat a lot of things and I don’t really have a favorite. My favorite color is red.” He sensed your confusion and explained, “That’s all the answers to the bullshit questions people ask me. I get tired of hearing them so I thought I could just get it over with.”

Damn, the kid was smart. Maybe a little rude, but you had to admit you liked him. Though, it was going to get a little confusing, since your name is Dave too, so you would have to find a way to fix that. Maybe you could start going by David? ...Never. Maybe you’d just keep calling him Ringo.

You couldn’t help but notice one kid out of the corner of your eye having an intense stare-down with the three of you while making some kind of lego structure. This kid looked just a bit like Dave, only taller and with slightly darker hair. You stared back at him, tilting your shades down some. You made perfect eye contact with him so that he knew he was caught in the act, but the kid looked from your eyes almost instantly, like it scared him. He still continued watching Dave, though.

Dave noticed your distraction, tilting his head slightly like one of those little pug dogs. Damn, that was adorable, but you wouldn’t bring it up. You were too focused on little stalker boy.

“That’s my brother,” Dave explained. “He doesn’t like it when people talk to me. ‘cause... They might take me away.” He looked a little saddened by the thought.

You understood exactly how they felt, as you and your bro had been in the same position when you were younger. Potential parents always wanted the younger sibling, and you were one cute little bastard, so you probably would have had a better chance on your own. But you two were a package deal, you had made sure of that, and most of the couples hadn’t been looking for the kind of commitment they’d get with adopting two kids. You had somehow managed to stick with your little arrangement long enough for your brother to turn eighteen and just become your guardian his own damned self.

Times were tough at first. You were homeless for awhile. But just look at how you both turned out: rich and attractive, the best combination. Maybe the same could happen for those boys, but you weren’t satisfied with just hoping. Some nagging feeling you had just wouldn’t let it go... You had to help them out somehow, even if you didn’t know exactly how you’d go about doing it. You decided to start by talking to the other kid.

“Hey, Spongebob Starepants,” you remark, standing over the boy. “Saw you eyeing me. What’s up?”

He huffed quietly, looking up at you with...Okay, his eyes were the freakiest shade of amber you’d ever seen. They were enormous, too, like a baby owl or some shit. “I’m busy.” 

“You weren’t busy ten seconds ago when you were watching me like a hawk.”

“I was,” he assured you. “People can do more than one thing at one time.”

“Then you admit to watching me?” He has no answer. You smirk. “What’re you doing?”

“Waiting for you to leave me alone,” the kid answered bluntly. Sassy bastard.

“Ouch, kid. That hurt. I might even die.” You faked a pout. The kid was unimpressed. “The name’s Dave. What’s yours?”

“Dirk.” Not even so much as looking up from his legos.

“Dirk, huh? Okay.” You started to ask him another question, but he cut you off.

“Six.”

“What?”

“I’m six. That’s what usually comes after the name question. You wouldn’t believe how often I’ve had this exact conversation.” Dirk reaches for another lego.

“How often?” you asked, picking it up and handing it to him.

He takes it, looking at you as if thanking you. “Often enough that I can predict exactly what you’ll say next before you say it.”

“Oh yeah?” Smart little fucker, wasn’t he? Like a tiny Spock. A tiny, sassy Spock. You found yourself really liking the kid.

“Yeah.” Dirk finishes his project, setting it to the side and standing up. “Just like how no one ever adopts me, thus causing me to further mess up Dave’s chances of getting out of here.” He shrugs. “You’re no different, I bet.”

You had nothing to say to that, but it made you realize something. You really, really, really wanted to prove him wrong.

The lady pulled you to the side and smiled at you. “I’m glad to see someone taking an interest in him. A lot of people don’t notice Dirk right away, and when they do, well... His bluntness has the tendency to put them off.”

“I like it,” you stated calmly. 

She smiled at you again. “I can see that. If you want to consider--”

“I want him.” You formed the words without your brain’s permission, acting on impulse. Somehow, though, you didn’t regret them.

The woman blinks in surprise. “What?”

“I want him,” you repeated. “What do I do?”

“All right... Come with me.”

This was the craziest thing you’ve ever done in your life. Panic set in as you realized that you had no idea how to take care of a child. You weren’t even home half the time. People don’t just casually adopt kids like they adopt pets, it requires planning, and this was insane... You kept repeating those thoughts over and over in your mind from that point until you got home.

Now you’re home, and your newly acquired six-year-old is curled up on your couch waiting for further instruction. It freaks you the hell out, but whatever. You’re going to make this work if it kills you.

And it just might...


	2. Adventures in Dirk-sitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your reviews, lovelies <3  
> In return, have some more Strider fluff.

“What do you want to watch?” you ask, holding the remote.

“My Little Pony,” answers Dirk. 

You can’t stop yourself from smirking. “I thought you were a boy.”

“I thought you asked what I wanted to watch.”

You shrug. “You like horses?”

He nods. “They’re cool.”

“What else do you like?” you ask, trying to get a conversation going.

“Robots,” he answers plainly.

“Cool.” Awkward pause. “What grade are you in?”

“Second. I skipped up one.”

You have to raise your eyebrows at that. “Pretty impressive, little guy.”

“Not really, but thanks. ‘m hungry.”

Oh, right... He needs to eat. What do kids eat, again? You lead him to the kitchen. “Pick out what you want, but don’t eat too much. I’ll order pizza or something later.”

He immediately grabs some Cheetos and the liter bottle of orange soda your brother left, but he has trouble closing the fridge with his little arms full. You do it for him, taking the bottle before he drops it.

“Watch it, kiddo. You’ll turn orange with all that.”

Dirk pouts slightly. “I won’t turn orange. That’s impossible.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,” you say jokingly. “Why do you think the cast of Jersey Shore look the way they do?”

“Fake tan and no shame.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Can’t argue with that.”

 

After flopping on the couch and staring intently at the TV screen for about an hour, Dirk tugs almost hesitantly at your sleeve.

“Yeah?”

“What do I call you?”

You shrug. “Anything but ‘dad’. How about ‘Dave’?”

He stares at you. “My brother’s name is Dave.”

“I’m kinda your brother now too,” you mention. “Since I’m not your dad. So now you have two brothers named Dave.”

“That’s confusing,” Dirk whines.

“No it’s not. It’s kind of cool. It could even be a reality show. Or a sitcom. ‘My Brothers Dave and Dave’.”

“No.”

“Aww, c’mon. We’d make millions. We could be the next Kardashians.”

“You already make millions, and I hate the Kardashians.” He crosses his tiny arms.

You smirk, deciding to stop harassing the boy. “Okay, you win. I guess we won’t be TV stars after all. Just call me ‘Bro’, I guess.”

Dirk tilts his head slightly, stuffing some more Cheetos into his mouth. “That’s what Dave calls your brother.”

“That’s what I call him, too.” You sigh. “And don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s gross.”

Probably just to spite you, he crams a few more in his mouth before he asks his next question. “Why do you do that?”

You shrug. “That’s just what I call him.”

“What’s his real name?”

You pause, trying not to laugh as you make the sudden connection. “Derick.”

Dirk frowns. “Dave, Dave, Dirk, and Derick?”

“Yep.”

“I hate this family,” he laments, collapsing onto your lap melodramatically. You almost die from laughing. 

 

-

 

You wake up that night to the sound of labored breaths. You roll over, only to find a tiny, shaking lump under the covers. You sit up and pull them back.

“Dirk?”

He had apparently managed to sneak into your room and hide in your bed. Dirk was pale and sick, his little body trembling and burning with fever. You take him into your arms, ignoring the quiet whimper he lets out when he finds himself being moved without his knowledge.

“It’s okay, little guy,” you whisper, holding him close. You have no idea how to take care of a sick kid, but you’ll try your best. 

You set him down on the bed, pulling some blankets over him and petting his hair reassuringly. Opening the medicine cabinet in your bathroom, you find a thermometer that you’ve only used once and decide that you should probably take Dirk’s temperature.

You take your shaking pile of whimpering grade-schooler into your arms, feeling the heavy warmth of his fever through his pajamas. You coax the thermometer between his lips, taking it out when it beeps, and wince. 103.6.

You know that that was really high, and that it was probably higher for a kid. Panic sets in. Should you take him to the hospital? Is he going to die? You really don’t want him to. You’ve only had him for a week, but the little bastard’s grown on you. You can’t lose him now.

A small part of your mind wonders if you’re a bad guardian for not knowing what to do to help.

You decide to call your friend. She has a little girl just a year older than Dirk, and on top of that, her girlfriend is a teacher. She’ll know what to do.

 

“No, you don’t need to take him to the hospital.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.” Her tone is surprisingly calm and patient, especially considering the fact that you just woke her up at three in the morning. Then you remember that she’s an author and was probably awake with an idea anyway. “It’s a good sign that he has a fever. It means that his body is fighting off the infection. However, if it isn’t gone within the next day or two, he probably should be taken to a doctor.”

You heave a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

After saying your goodbyes and hanging up, you return your attention to Dirk. For some reason, he looks terrified. Then you remember that he’s probably delirious. So you hold him again, rubbing his little back when he coughs. Dirk eventually relaxes, presses his face into your shoulder, and goes to sleep. You arrange the two of you so that you’re lying on your side with him nestled into your chest like a baby kitten. You sigh, putting your arms around him, not even minding when one of them falls asleep.

How this kid manages to turn you into a puddle of feels, you’ll never know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to make that a thing. Keeping Up With the Striders. I'd watch it.


	3. Car Cat

A few days later, Dirk gets better, and you decide that today was as good a time as any to go back to work. Movies don’t make themselves, and you have bills to pay and a kid to feed. Dirk told you he understands, but even his zen attitude isn’t enough to mask his anxiety over your leaving. 

“When are you coming home?”

“I don’t know, late?” You shrug.

Dirk’s already-huge eyes open even wider in shock. “Late,” he repeats, as if he doesn’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Relax, kid,” you tell him for what feels like the millionth time this morning. “I’ll be back. It’s not like I’m leaving you forever.”

“I know that.”

“Coulda fooled me.” Dirk isn’t amused. You tousle his hair. “You’ll be fine. I promise. And it’s not like you’ll be alone. I got you a babysitter.”

“I don’t want a babysitter.” He pouts, crossing his arms.

“You’ll like him. I bet he’s nice.”

If Dirk wasn’t Dirk, you’d be willing to bet that he’d be flipping his shit right now. That is, if the look he’s giving you is anything to go by. “You bet. You haven’t even met him, have you?”

“Relax. He babysits my friend’s daughter. She recommended him--”

“Sweet fuck, you haven’t.”

“Don’t say ‘fuck’, young man.” But you have to admit it’s pretty cute when he does.

“You do it,” Dirk retorts.

“I can say it if I want to, alright? I’m a grown man, and you’re six. Case dismissed, court is now adjourned forever.” 

He groans. “Let’s forget this and go back to the part where you told me you were leaving your kid with a complete stranger.”

You sigh. “He’s not a complete stranger. It’s not like I just pulled some random person off the sidewalk and asked them to watch my brat.”

“At least you would have seen the random person...”

“Hey, shut up.”

“Do you at least know his name?” Dirk asks.

“Karkat. Karkat Vantas.” You ignore the fact that you’re probably butchering the pronunciation.

Dirk raises an eyebrow at you. “Like...a cat...driving a car?”

“Yeah.” You hope to God that mental picture doesn’t make you laugh every time you hear that name. What kind of guy has that for a name, anyway? You start trying to imagine what he looks like, but the doorbell rings, cutting your thoughts short. You pull the door open, and....

 

That...

...was a nice surprise....

“Karkat Vantas” is apparently some foreign phrase for “scruffy exotic angel”. His hair is dark and messy, like he rarely (if ever) brushes it, but it somehow looks incredibly soft. Karkat has long features, and his skin is smooth, with enough of an olive tint to make you think that he’d tan well even though he’s almost white. He’s got a small build; you can tell even though he’s buried in layers of oversized clothing. And those eyes...Intense, dark, and...now glaring at you.

“What?” growls Karkat in annoyance.

Fuck, you were staring. You decide to play it cool and act like it never happened. “Hey. I’m Dave. You’re Karkat, right?”

“Who else would I be?” Fiesty. You have to admit, you really like that.

Time to stop ogling the sitter and make a smartass remark. “Hey, that’s a little rude,” you say in mock seriousness. “And here I am inviting you into my home, so that I can give you money for eating my food.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Where’s the kid?”

“In there.” You call out to Dirk. “I’m gone, squirt. I’ll be back tonight. Don’t be an...” You start to say ‘asshole’, but remembering that you have no idea how Karkat would react to hearing you curse around your child, you censor yourself. “Just...Be good.”

You really hope he does. For your sake.

 

-

 

When you get back, Dirk is half asleep, curled up in a pile of pillows on the floor. He looks at you, and then instantly falls asleep. It looks as though he made himself stay awake until he saw you get home. You can’t help but smile. What an adorable little fucker.

Karkat doesn’t seem to be howling in agony like you half-expected. He actually seems pretty content, sitting on your couch with his laptop and headphones, playing some FPS online like he wasn’t working. You sit beside him without warning, apparently shocking him enough to jump a foot in the air and pause the game.

“It’s okay. It’s not like he needs constant supervision.” Actually, you were right. Dirk was smart and mature enough that he probably could just take care of himself without a babysitter. But in the eyes of the law, that still would look like child neglect.

Karkat lets out a tiny sigh of relief, collecting his things and standing up. 

“Was he okay?”

“He’s a great kid,” he replies. “Annoyed the shit out of me with all his questions, though.But I think that he’s satisfied with the fact that he now knows more about my life story than I do, so we’re okay.”

“Sounds about right.” You feel the sudden urge to know more about him, as well. “Not that anyone can blame him, though. You look pretty interesting.” Karkat scoffs at you. “No really. You in school?”

He shoots you a glare that could probably kill small animals. “What the hell kind of question was that? Do I look like I’m fifteen or something?”

“I meant college, but... On a scale of ‘mildly irate’ to ‘throwing furniture’, how pissed would you be if I said yes?” 

Karkat rolls his eyes. “Oh, look out everyone! We’ve got a smart ass over here.” 

You fake a heavy sigh. “You’ve found me out, drat. Seriously, though. What are you, eighteen?”

“Nineteen,” he corrects. “And no. I’m not in school. Don’t plan to go.” He looks at you as if daring you to say anything negative about the latter part of his comment. 

You shrug. “I hear ya. Didn’t go myself. Seemed like a waste of time back then, and look at me now. Picture of success.”

“Wait, did you hear that?” Karkat asks. “That was the sound of apathy. No one cares about your achievements.”

“That’s a wonderful thing for a guy to say to his boss.” He freezes up. “I was kidding, you’re fine.”

“Oh. Well... See you tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it,” you tell him.

You can’t even believe yourself how true that is.


	4. Mermaids and Crabs

“Did you know that she’s supposed to die at the end?”

“What? No, stop ruining my childhood!”

“It’s true. She turns into foam and dies because she doesn’t get the prince to love her.”

“Argh, why can’t you be like normal kids and just watch the goddamned movie?”

Karkat is attempting to entertain Dirk by making him watch The Little Mermaid, but he’s apparently having more fun with bothering his sitter.

“I don’t want to be a normal kid. Normal kids are boring.”

“Better boring than a know-it-all little cockgoblin.”

“You can’t call me a cockgoblin. I’m telling.” Dirk looks over at you and whines. “Bro, Karkat called me a name.”

“So?”

“So do something.”

“Dirk, stop being a know-it-all cockgoblin.” Karkat smirks at him triumphantly, and you wonder just who the adult is supposed to be.

This has grown into somewhat of a routine for you over the past month or so. Karkat comes at around seven, watches Dirk until whenever you get in from work, stays for about another hour, and then walks home. However, despite the fact that he’s practically been living with you, you’ve learned very little about him other than that he guards details about his personal life like a treasure chest. But you’re curious. Where is he from? Where did his family come from? You know that his isn’t exactly the most common American name. He likes video games and romance films, from what you’ve seen, but which ones? What else does he like? Who are his friends?

You find it a little strange that you’ve taken such an interest in this boy’s life, but not really. Karkat’s been staying with your kid, entrusted by you to keep him alive and safe. You have the right to know if he’s some kind of dangerous nutcase….All right, he’s almost definitely not that, since Dirk hasn’t complained about you leaving him in his care. Still, you need an excuse to get to know him that doesn’t gravitate around the fact that as much as you try to ignore it, Karkat Vantas is one sexy bastard. You’ve been trying to get over your “little crush”, however, because really. This isn’t a sitcom from the nineties, you aren’t British, and Karkat isn’t Fran Drescher. It won’t happen.

You still can’t make your heart slow down whenever he’s around, even though you can list several reasons to get over him. Karkat is rude, a little lazy, and easily frustrated. He’s such a Debby Downer that every other word that comes out of his mouth has the power to suck the life force from kittens and smiling children. And even if he wasn’t…himself, there would still be an insane age gap between the two of you. There’s also the fact that you’re his boss, and having a relationship with your employee anywhere outside of television and porn rarely ever goes as planned. 

But he still gets to you. In fact, the more you think about them, the easier to deal with his negative traits become. At this point, they’ve almost become endearing. Adorable, even. You can’t do anything about it, though, other than become his friend. Which is exactly what you plan to do.

“So, Vantass. Have time to stay awhile longer?” you ask, after (forcibly) putting Dirk to bed.

Karkat shrugs. “I don’t have to be home yet. I guess I could.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, smirking. “What, got a curfew?” 

“Fuck off, Dave,” he growls.

“Hey, that’s Mr. Strider to you.”

“Seriously?”

“Nah. But you’d be in trouble if I wasn’t.”

“No I wouldn’t.”

You shrug, getting up to open the fridge. “I guess you’ve got me there. Want something to drink?” He nods. “What do you want?”

“Coke. Not diet. And if you try and give me that Pepsi bullshit, so help me I will throw it in your smug face.”

“Kind of a rude thing to say, don’t you think?” you remark, handing him a can. “After all, I’m trying to be nice and serve you drinks like a good host.”

Karkat sighs, pressing it to his forehead to feel the cold metal against his skin. “I’m in a bad mood.”

“You’re always in a bad mood.”

“Point taken. Considerably worse mood, then.”

“Is it something Dirk did?” you ask. He sighs again.

“No. He actually helped a little.”

“Then this is an improvement?”

“Shut up.”

You almost break your cool-guy façade enough to laugh, but stop yourself at the last minute. “What happened, anyway?”

“Why do you want to know?” He glares at you defensively.

“Because I care,” you reply honestly. Karkat scoffs. “Okay, I’m mostly just curious.”

“Wow, thanks for your genuine concern.” He rolls his eyes.

“You’re welcome. Now tell me what put your panties in a wad before I break something in frustration.”

“Who the fuck are you, Dr. Phil?” 

“If I say yes, will you tell me?”

Karkat growls, slamming his soda onto the side-table. “I’m not in the mood to talk about my day.”

“…And how does that make you feel?”

He is not amused.

“Okay, okay.” You sigh, defeated. “Wanna talk about something else?”

“No.”

“Too bad. That’s now part of your job. Humoring my shitty whims.”

“It wasn’t in the description.”

“Yeah it was. In tiny print.”

Karkat picks his drink up, taking a sip. “Fine. Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

“Where are you from?” you ask.

“Lived around here all my life.” A part of his tone makes you think that he wanted to add ‘unfortunately’ to the end of that statement.

“Local, then. Okay. What kind of name is that, anyway?”

“What?”

“ ‘Karkat Vantas’. Don’t get me wrong, I like it. But where’s it from?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a race question?”

“Would you be pissed if it is?” you ask.

“I’m Indian-Italian,” he answers. “ ‘Vantas’ is Latin, I think.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“Any more questions?”

“So many,” you reply.

Karkat sighs. “Do we have to do this?”

“Yes.”

“What if I refuse?”

“I’m paying you, remember?”

“Then let’s get it over with.”

You learn that Karkat’s cousin just so happens to be your friend’s girlfriend Kanaya, and that was how he ended up getting a job sitting their daughter. His dad had been a preacher and died when Karkat was seventeen, leaving him and his (apparently annoying) older brother in the care of Kanaya’s mom. You also learn that said brother is asexual but has a boyfriend that Karkat hates.

His birthday is in June, and he likes the color grey. He hates red, but he can’t seem to escape it, so he’s grown somewhat indifferent to red objects. His favorite animal is either a cat or a crab, either of which would oddly suit him in your opinion. His best friend is apparently a computer genius, but Karkat doesn’t have the patience to deal with technology beyond online gaming and IMing. 

“Why do you care, anyway?” he asks.

“Because I care about your life.”

Karkat smirks. “Or mostly you’re just curious.”

“No.” You get up to go and make sure that Dirk’s actually asleep, tousling his hair after standing. He growls you, and you grin. “I just care.”


	5. I Think We're Good

“Dirk, you little asshole. Get up.”

He whines and pulls his billiard ball-themed sheets closer to himself.

“I’m not kidding. Get out of bed or you’re in trouble.”

Dirk chooses to pretend you aren’t there.

“Dave’s gonna be here soon. I’ll just tell him and Bro to go home if you’re not up when they get here.”

That gets a reaction out of him. Dirk instantly sits straight up, practically running to the bathroom to brush his teeth. You can’t help but chuckle as he frantically struggles to get ready, but stop as soon as he trips and falls on his face.

“You okay, kiddo?” you ask, helping him up. He nods. “You miss Dave, huh?” He pauses, then nods again. You pick him up, sitting down on the edge of his bed so that you can hold him in your lap. 

He whines. “Stop, Bro, let me down.”

You weren’t going to, but the doorbell rang, thus causing Dirk to wrench himself out of your hold and run for the door. 

Your bro is carrying Dave on his back, and you notice that the tiny boy has on…

“Bro. The fuck. Does he have on.” A statement, not a question. Directed at the pair of glasses now on Dave’s face, tinier versions of your brother’s.

“Awesome shades.”

“No. No, man.”

He shrugs, releasing the now squirming Dave down to play with his brother. “He said he wanted some like mine. So he’d be like his bro. Cutest fucking thing you ever heard, right?”

You kind of have to admit that’s adorable. You look over at Dirk, wondering why he’s never expressed any admiration towards you. Then again, Dirk is Dirk, and if he looked up to you, he would never let you or anyone else know. That’s just how he is.

He and Dave aren’t really playing like other little kids would. They’re both pretty much doing their own thing separately, but in close proximity. Occasionally, one says a few words to the other, but thus reaches the furthest extent of their interaction. 

You have to admit you’re proud of how well they get along for siblings-- kid siblings, at that. Had that been you and your bro, you would have been at each other’s throats within the hour. Then again, Dirk and Dave are twins, so maybe they have a special bond or some shit. You don’t know.

They leave at around ten p.m., and Dirk is, unsurprisingly, still wide awake, drawing some kind of technical blueprint in crayon.

“So. Have fun?” you ask. He nods. “Miss Dave?”

“Kind of.”

“Did Bro’s…Bro-ness bother you?”

“No. He’s really cool. I like his puppet.”

That makes one of us, you think with a shudder. “Is he cooler than me?”

Dirk looks up at you. “Sometimes. But I’m not his. So you still win.”

“That didn’t sound forced at all.”

He shrugs slightly, returning to his crayons. “He’s cooler. But I like you more.”

You sigh, sitting down beside him and deciding to just go ahead and ask what’s been on your mind since you got the kid. “Am I doing okay? I mean, do you like it here?”

“What?” He actually sounds genuinely confused.

“You heard me.”

Dirk shrugs, still kind of confused. “Nobody’s ever cared about that before.”

“Well, I do.”

“I like it here,” he answers honestly. “You’re nice, and so are Dave’s Bro and Karkat.”

You sigh, a little relieved. “You can tell me, y’know. If I completely fuck up this whole ‘parenting’ thing.”

“Well, you haven’t hurt me or anything…” Dirk mumbles quietly, but not quietly enough for you not to hear. 

“Hurt you? I don’t plan on it,” you tell him, ruffling his hair. He shrinks, obviously wishing you hadn’t caught that last statement. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Were you expecting me to?”

He hesitates. “…No.” An obvious lie.

You pause. Wait, shit. He actually was expecting that? Why? “Were you hurt before?”

“Bro, I’m coloring.”

“Dirk. Were you hurt before?” you repeat.

“…Coloring.”

You grab him. “No, Dirk. Fuck coloring. You’re answering me right now. Coloring can wait.”

Dirk looks up at you, and…God bless the poor kid, he’s terrified. His face is just as void of emotion as usual, but something in his eyes tells you that he’s scared as hell. Hopefully not of you. You pull him into the tightest hug of the century, trying to calm him down.

“It’s okay, little guy. I’m not mad.” You sigh. “I just need a yes or no. That’s all. You’re not in trouble, I just… Jesus fuck, kiddo. Tell me.”

“…Maybe.” In other words, yes. Probably really badly, or else he wouldn’t be so afraid to tell you.

You don’t say anything for awhile. You aren’t sure what to say anyway; what even does one say in this situation? You don’t even know what happened to him, just that something did. Scenes of him being beaten senseless flash through your mind, scenes that belong in Lifetime specials and not your child’s past, and they almost are enough to make you physically ill. Do you ask him about it? Are you supposed to get him to talk about it, or is he supposed to come to you when he’s ready?

You know that, being Dirk, he probably wouldn’t tell you if you didn’t ask. So you do. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He looks around, anywhere but near you. “Later?”

“Sure, little guy,” you reply, not really sure that you can say no to him about anything right this moment. You sigh. You’re in some deep shit now, Dave Strider.


	6. One Organ Short of a Soap Opera

You take off from work for a few days after your little conversation with Dirk. It bothers you more than you thought it would, even considering the possibility of someone abusing your kid, and you feel too overprotective and overwhelmed with the whole situation to leave him, even to do your job. You know that it’s not a good excuse for coddling him, but you can’t help it. You even offered to let him sleep in your room, but he turned it down.

You watch Dirk as he plays around with his markers, pouting slightly when he messes up his drawing, only to correct it with a strategically-placed line. He looks so tiny and innocent. Who would ever want to hurt him? Okay, he might be a bit annoying at times, with his extremely high vocabulary and occasional tendency to just overall be a little shit, but that’s no excuse. 

You stay home for a day or two more before Dirk starts to bitch about missing Karkat.

“What’s wrong with me?” you ask.

“You’re not Karkat,” he replies matter-of-fact-ly.

You smirk. “What’s he got that I don’t have?”

“He’s fun.”

“I can be fun.”

“Bro.”

“I’ll call him.”

 

-

 

With all the time you’ve mutually spent with Dirk, you’d like to call Karkat your friend by now. Or, well, his definition of friendship, one that that generally involves insults and yelling. That added to the fact that Karkat was responsible for taking care of Dirk half the time was enough to convince you to tell him about your little “problem” before anyone else. 

You hate the thought of talking about the kid’s issues without his permission, but you think it would be a good idea to at least warn his sitter that taking a flying leap off the metaphoric handle and shouting at him might trigger something less than pleasant. Or it might not. You have no idea, which is part of what makes you so worried. You might do something that really upsets him, and you would have no clue, or you could also one day accidentally do something that freaks him out and you won’t know what to do to make it better. He could either be a silent-sufferer or a ticking time bomb of negative emotion, and neither of those scenarios sound good to you.

“Should he be seeing someone for this?” 

“I dunno, should he?” you ask.

Karkat shrugs. “He’s not been reduced to a traumatized ball of sob around me yet, so I don’t know.”

“He hasn’t done that around me either. I doubt he’s done that at all. He might never do that.” You sigh. “Damned if I know.”

“I’m not good at this,” he states, a bit frustrated. “I don’t mean to be unhelpful or anything, but I’m not prepared for this shit, so I don’t know what to tell you. When you figure out what needs to be done, I’ll help you do it. Just don’t expect me to get all touchy-feely about it.”

“Says the guy who cried for an hour over The Notebook,” you retort with a smirk.

“They fucking died, okay?!”

You weren’t sure at first how Karkat would react when you told him. Actually, you fully expected him to quit, unable to handle the newly-discovered drama. Instead, you were met with his willingness to help out, and you’re really grateful for that. It adds to the list of things you...

.....like about him....

Alright, you’re relatively certain by now that your feelings for Karkat were slightly less than professional. You’ve come to terms with that. You don’t remember having any other real crushes before, even when you were Dirk’s age, figuring that no one could possibly keep up with a Strider or be cool enough for you to actually date. Karkat Vantas single-handedly proved you wrong. You don’t know how or even exactly when, but he did. And you were looking forward to finally being the asker-out, instead of the asked-out, for once in your life.

“You keep stalking the window. See anything, maybe a faceless figure in a black suit?” 

He growls at you. “Reference Slenderman again, and I will tear your face off.”

“Then I’d become the reference,” you point out. “See? Already have the suit. Maybe that’s where it started. Maybe he’s trying to find his face in the ripped-open corpses of--”

“I’m not kidding!” Karkat interrupts with a slight shudder. “Fucking stop!” 

You grin triumphantly. Pressing his buttons has recently become a treasured hobby of yours, because, what can you say? He’s cute when he gets angry.

“My ride’s here,” the brunet states, getting up and gathering his things.

“Would that ride happen to be a tall, faceless man in a--”

“Shut up, Strider.”

Karkat opens the door, revealing a young man no older than twenty. He’s dressed mainly in purple, wearing a pair of those dark-rimmed hipster glasses and a very unnecessary scarf, as the month so happens to be May. The mystery guy also has a random chunk of his hair dyed blond, probably faded from some bright color. But time to stop thinking about what he looks like and start wondering who the fuck he is.

“You didn’t have to come in and get me,” Karkat tells him. “I was on my way out.”

“I know. I wanted to.” You can’t help but notice that his w’s are slightly stuttered. And that he sounds a lot like Numbah One from Codename Kids Next Door. 

To your surprise, Karkat hugs him, his face pressed into the still-quite-unnecessary scarf like the two are just destined to cuddle like that forever. But they aren’t. Karkat doesn’t hug, to your knowledge, so this scene is entirely unnatural to you. Also a little envy-inducing, since you aren’t the one currently on the cuddles-with-Karkat train with (or instead of) this guy.

“Who’s this?” you ask, the slight jealousy more present in your voice than you would’ve hoped. Then you remember, like an idiot, that Karkat has a brother, and that you’ve never seen him before. You feel a bit relieved for a moment. “Is this that Kankri you were telling me about?”

“No, dumbass, Kankri wouldn’t be hugging me. He’d be flipping his shit and going on about ‘triggers’. Remember?” Oh. Right. “This is my boyfriend. Eridan.”

Relief gone. All of it.

You’re pretty sure they said a few more things before they left, but you didn’t hear them. You were too busy focusing on the avalanche of new information falling directly upon your head. It couldn’t be possible. You, Dave Strider, just had your man stolen. By a scarved, stuttering, purple-clad hipster Nigel Uno. 

Well, to be fair, he never actually was your man. He was the Eridan guy’s man. So, technically, you were in the wrong for trying to pursue him in the first place, even though you’d had no idea that he had a boyfriend. Why hadn’t he mentioned a boyfriend?

Oh, yeah. Because Karkat fucking Vantas never fucking mentions his fucking personal life unless you fucking ask him specific fucking questions, and you were so fucking worried that this would happen that you were in a state of fucking denial. Nice. Fucking. Job. Strider.

Oh well, you think. Maybe they’ll break up. Or maybe you’ll start being a man someday soon and let all this go. Neither of those sound likely. Damn, if you were a teenaged girl and not lactose intolerant, now would be about the time to curl up on the couch and drown your feelings with a pint of ice cream.

“Bro?”

Great. Now the kid’s up. “Yeah?”

“Why’re you sad?” Dirk asks.

“What? I’m not sad.”

“You are,” he insists, placing himself in your lap like it was something he did every day of his life, when in fact this was probably the first time this ever happened. Dirk hugs you, leaning into your chest. “I can tell.

You sigh, returning the hug. “Okay. You got me.”

“It’s because Karkat has a boyfriend, isn’t it?”

“How did you--”

“He came to bring Karkat something once. And I saw them leave from the window in my room. And now you’re sad, because you like Karkat.”

“Who says?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Says all the dumb romantic movies Karkat makes me watch,” Dirk states. “They’re really bad and I hate them. But the people always look at each other like you look at him, so it’s obvious you like him.”

You shrug. “Good enough logic, I guess. Not that it matters now.” You sigh.

He cuddles you some more, trying to make you feel better. “It’ll be okay, Bro. The snooty ginger in Titanic was engaged to that ugly guy when she fell in love with Leonardo diCaprio.” He frowns. “And I only know that because Karkat made me watch it with him.”

You laugh, actually starting to feel just a little better. That fucking kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, surprise EriKar. Please don't hit me. There's going to be a happy ending for all parties involved, I promise.


	7. Roxy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. I just REALLY needed some cute little kid fluff. ;n;

You can’t deny that things are a little awkward now between you and Karkat. He doesn’t know that, though, and if you have your way he never will.

Today he had to watch your friend’s daughter, so you asked if he’d be willing to bring her over so that the two of them could meet. Dirk seriously needs some friends his own age. It’s probably not good for him to fly solo, as much as he’d probably like to.

Her name is Roxy, and she is the single most talkative little shit you’ve ever met in your life. She looks a lot like her mother, but she’s nothing at all like the reserved-yet-sassy girl you grew up with. Every time she sees you, she never fails to start a fast-paced, one-sided conversation about video games, wizards, and/or her pet cat. You wonder how Dirk’s going to react to her.

Karkat walks through the door, quietly warning Roxy to stop swinging his arm around. She doesn’t.

“Roxy, I mean it. Let go.”

“Awww, you’re no fun!” She pouts over-dramatically, gasping when she notices you. She then launches herself at your leg, clinging to the fabric of your pants excitedly. “Uncle Dave!”

“Hey.” You mess up her hair fondly.

Roxy suddenly turns around, noticing that you’re being watched. Dirk is staring down the three of you, which is, apparently, his way of saying “hello”. He stays glued to his spot, not moving for anything, even when Roxy approaches him. She holds a hand out to him, smiling. “Roxy Lalonde.”

Dirk stares at the extended hand, then at Roxy. “Dirk. Dirk...Strider.” You had only recently settled the matter of what his last name was, and he was just now getting to use it. 

Roxy isn’t pleased by just waiting for him to shake her hand. Instead, she reaches out and grabs Dirk’s, moving it up and down for him. “There we go!” She beams, and you can almost catch a glimpse of a smile on Dirk’s face, as well.

 

-

 

“...And then he started chasing his tail! It was so cute!”

“I don’t think I’ve played with a cat before.”

“What?! You have to come over to my house, then. You just have to. And then we’ll play with him together! Oooh! And maybe we can get my cousin Rose to bring her kitty, too! And we’ll have a kitty party!”

“Okay.”

“I think I know how to get to Janie’s house from here. Wanna try?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s not,” says Karkat. Roxy frowns.

Dirk seems to be getting along pretty well with Roxy, to your pleasant surprise. Maybe opposites really do attract. No matter what the reason, he seems pretty happy, and you’re glad to let him do whatever makes him like this. Well, within reason, which does not include letting him go off wandering the streets in hopes of finding a house that may or may not be close-by. You will, however, make sure to arrange some kind of playdate with this “Janie”, especially if it is.

At the end of the day, after Karkat manages to pry a crying Roxy from Dirk and drags her home to her mothers, you ask Dirk if he had fun.

“Yeah,” is his short reply.

“Good.”

“Roxy said I’m her best friend. Besides Jane. She said that since I’m a boy it still counts. I’m her best boy friend.”

You smile. “That’s pretty cute, squirt. Is she your best friend?” He nods. 

“She’s nice. And funny.”

“Dirk has a girlfriend,” you say mockingly, causing him to pout. You can’t help but laugh.

“I don’t like girls.”

“Why?” you ask. “Do they have cooties?”

Dirk makes a face. “No, Bro, cooties don’t exist.”

“Did your girlfriend tell you that?”

He throws a couch cushion at you and runs upstairs to his room, leaving you to your own hysteric laughter.


	8. Be Karkat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor widdle Karbabby had a hard life. ;n;

==> Be the grumpy babysitter.

 

You’re wondering why you call yourself a romance expert when your own love life is total shit.

Your life had never been an easy one, not even when you were younger. You never quite knew why you were born, especially with your little “mutation”...the details of which will be described in more depth later on, but certainly not now. The point is, every day for you has always been endless pain and life-questioning bullshit, none of which has been exactly pleasant for you. Especially with the bullying. 

It was a good thing that your dad and brother accepted you for who and what you turned out to be, otherwise you’d be dead by now. Your father, even though it probably went against everything preachers were supposed to stand for, embraced your existence with open arms, and his death affected you more than anyone will ever be allowed to know. He never once judged you, and neither did Kankri, which is why the two of you have such a close relationship, even if he is a know-it-all that thinks he’s Jesus Christ for having followers on Tumblr. 

You just wish that your classmates had felt the same way. You had grown up with friends, lots of them...Every one of which you lost by middle school. It wasn’t your fault, but they never understood that. Oh well. At least that experience taught you how to defend yourself.

In high school, your dad finally transferred you and your brother to a private school (with funds supplied by your wealthy aunt) so that you could start a new life. That’s where you met your current friends. Gamzee was the first, but after the two of you briefly dated in tenth grade, you’ve sort of drifted apart. He got into drugs, and you just weren’t going to get involved in that. It worked out for the better, though, since he recently met and fell in love with one of your buddy Nepeta’s friends and is apparently turning his life around. You’re happy for him, but you’re in no hurry to let him back into yours. Not that he’d want that anyway.

You met Nepeta, who works at the animal shelter, and your blind law clerk friend Terezi. That’s also where you met Sollux Captor, your lisping asshole of a best friend. Looking back on things since then, Sollux was actually responsible for saving you. He gripped you tight pulled you from the lowest points of your life, even if that meant that the two of you had serious fights from things he told you, all of which you needed, but none of which you wanted to hear. He even sort of introduced you to Eridan (as his enemy, but introduced all the same). 

Which brings you back to your point. You and Eridan had been together for....How long now? Since the end of junior year, so a little over two years. It really didn’t seem like that long. Actually, it only feels as though it were yesterday that Eridan was just that obnoxious rich kid in your anatomy class that Sollux hated whose name you were pretty sure started with an “E”, and that was all you knew about him. If it weren’t for the number of times that Sollux ranted to you about how much he hated Eridan and that one fateful day in which the two of you got stuck in an elevator alone, you might have never even known each other. But here you are now, dating for two years and (as of last year) living together, much to your friend’s dismay.

Eridan had surprised you. You admit, he got on your nerves for awhile before the elevator thing, but he actually turned out to be an amazing guy. Yes, he’s bitchy, needy, and a little arrogant, but he’s also the best boyfriend anyone could ever ask for. He’s secretly the chivalrous, romantic Prince Charming-type that almost all women whine about not being able to find, and you’re the only one that’s ever seen this side of him because he’s never gone out with anyone but you. Eridan doesn’t mind that you’re a paranoid loser who’s too scared to go back to class. He takes care of you.

That makes you feel even worse about losing interest. It’s not that you don’t love him anymore. You do, but more like you love Sollux or even Kankri. All right, maybe not them and especially not Kankri, since the two of you semi-regularly fuck eachother’s brains out. And you just thought of your brother and sex in the same sentence. Nice.

Not that that even happens much anymore, which makes you think that he might be losing interest too. Or he could be noticing that you’re losing interest and trying not to drive you away or something. Which doesn’t make sense, because when it does happen, it’s really, really...

Time to not think about, narrate about, or mention sex in any way. Nope. Moving along.

Anyway, you’re afraid to break up with him. He’s been there for you more times than you’d even really care to count for fear of feeling even more guilty about your situation. You’re afraid because he knows basically literally everything about you, and if he ever got mad enough at you to spread certain things around, you’re pretty sure that your life would be over. But Eridan would never do that, even if he seems like the type that would.

Most of all, though, you’re afraid because you know that you have nowhere else to go. Literally in the sense that you’d probably have to move out, because you’re not making Eridan provide shelter for his ex, even if you ended it as friends. You’d have nowhere to stay, because Sollux doesn’t even have enough room at his place for you to visit for the day, much less stay over, and Kankri’s about to move in with Cronus, his pet douche, and you’re not going within fifty feet of that asshole even if it means sleeping on the streets. You have other friends, but you’re not really close enough to impose on their lives.

You’re also afraid in the figurative sense. You know that, chances are, you’re not going to find anyone else that tolerates you quite like Eridan does. Even if they could get past your horrible personality, angsty past bullshit, and sub-par appearance, they’d probably reject you once they found out you were a freak. Like your mom did. She killed herself right after you were born, probably because she hated you. It’s a wonder that your dad and Kankri didn’t hate you too. Or maybe they did all along, and they were lying to you. All the times your dad told you that all he wanted was your happiness. All the times Kankri put himself at risk by standing up for you. Maybe they were lies.

Actually, you don’t have the right to dump Eridan. You don’t have the right to dump anyone. You have a perfectly good boyfriend who doesn’t hate you and practically worships the very ground you walk on. Suck it up. You’re being ungrateful.

Oh well. Time to stop pity-partying, because Sollux just kicked your ass in Persona 4 Arena.

“I think you should dump him.”

You growl. “That’s your answer to everything he does. ‘Anything wrong? Oh, okay. Just dump him, it’ll be fine.’”

“That’s because it’s the right answer,” Sollux assures you. He shrugs, putting down the controller to get up and walk to your kitchen, helping himself to whatever he wants like he owns the damned place. You follow him with the goal of getting another drink. “I’m telling you, KK, the guy’s an ass.”

“Yeah? And people with a lisp shouldn’t call someone an ass.”

He frowns. “Not cool, KK. It’s getting better.”

“No it isn’t.” Actually, the lisp has gotten a lot better since high school. You’re kind of proud of Sollux, but you’ll die before you tell him that.You return to your place on the couch and open your newly-acquired can of soda. 

“Anyway, I just think you can do better, that’s all.” You roll your eyes at him. “Hey, don’t you go rolling your eyes at me, KK. Seriously, you deserve more than him, even if you don’t think you do.”

“Theriouthly?” you mock.

Sollux ignores the insult. “Theriothl--Fuck! Seriously! KK!”

“Okay, smart-ass. Who’th worthy of your prethioth KK? The prince of England, maybe?” 

He shrugs. “What about Strider?”

It takes everything you have in you to avoid doing a spit-take. Instead, you force yourself to swallow, choking slightly from the carbonation. “What about him?”

“You talk about him a lot,” Sollux points out, and you know he’s right. So you don’t argue.

“He’s my boss.”

“So?” he asks. “I thought you’d like that sort of thing, KK. It’s just like in one of your shitty little movies.”

You actually do have to admit that it is a pretty romantic concept, but you won’t tell Sollux. Instead, you pout, retorting, “My movies aren’t shitty.”

He smirks at you, pouring honey in his coffee like the weirdo he is. “You like him. C’mon, KK. You know I’m right.”

You frown. “Could you not use all of that?” He ignores you, continuing to squirt, until you wonder if he’d rather just have a mug of entirely honey and just forget about the coffee. You sigh, choosing not to press him any further, since doing so with Sollux usually does no good anyway. “I don’t like Strider, you dick. Besides, I have a boyfriend.”

He scoffs, finally putting the bottle down. “Barely. And bullshit you don’t, you stay at his house even when he’s there.”

“No I don’t, ass hat.”

“Yeah. You do.”

“....You can’t prove that.”

“KK. You’re blushing.”

Are you? Shit, you are. “Shut up, Captor.”

“Make me.”

You’re about to invent a snarky comeback involving your friend’s lisp when your phone rings. One look at the caller ID, however, and you stuff it back into your pocket. 

“Who is it?” Sollux asks, walking back into the living room.

“I’ll get it later.”

“Strider?”

“...Possibly.”

“Ooooh~”

“Shut up before I snap those glasses of yours in half.”

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you need a less complicated life.

.....

 

....

 

....And you do not have a crush on your employer.


	9. Jane's Party

Be Dave again.

It turns out that the little “Jane” girl was actually the granddaughter of your colleague and friend, comedy legend Johnny Crocker. You and the old man had worked together on several projects in the past, and now that you think about it, he had mentioned something about grandchildren. It just so happened that said grandchild was best friends with your best friend’s daughter. Small world.

It’s Jane’s birthday today, and Crocker took the liberty of inviting Dirk, and you accepted for the kid. Yes, without asking. He has one friend, poor tiny bastard, and you aren’t about to let him go without making at least one more.

Dirk isn’t pleased. He’s been dragging his feet all morning, whining about everything, especially having to get ready. It’s painfully clear that he would rather spend his entire life locked in his room making things and watching magical girl anime, but like any decent guardian, you aren’t about to let him.

“Go get dressed, Dirk.”

“But Bro,” he bitches. “Why do I have to go to some party? I don’t even know anybody there.”

“Roxy’s gonna be there,” you correct, sighing. “Come on, little dude. Please?”

“But…”

“You’ll have fun. I promise.”

“…You promise?” 

“Promise.”

“…Okay.”

 

-

 

The birthday girl is the stereotypical image of innocence, with her sweet face, frilly light blue dress, and Mary Jane shoes, but that only masks the rebellious tomboy within. She reminds you a lot of her grandfather, his silly nature and sometimes sigh-inducing riddles showing in Jane, and you think it’s pretty sweet. She turns seven today, making her just under a year older than Dirk.

Roxy is here, as well as Jane’s cousins. One of them is a little girl with glasses and more hair than someone her size should be able to handle. Her name is Jade, and she’s been using every excuse to talk to you since you got there. Jade excitedly tells you about her new puppy, her science projects, her grandfather, and pretty much everything else in her life. You think it’s adorable how cool she apparently thinks you are.

The other two are boys, and you have some difficulty in telling them apart at first. They both have dark hair, big teeth, and glasses. The slightly smaller one is John, and you learn from Jade that his best friend is (coincidentally) Dave, and that he’s lived across the street from your brother all his life. John’s everything is too big for his everything: his teeth, glasses, and eyes are too big for his face, his hoodie too big for his body, his sleeves covering the entirety of his hands. The end result is one overly-cute kid. It’s almost painful to watch.

The other one is Jake. His dad had been in the military, stationed in the UK until his death last year, when Jake came to live with his grandmother in the states. That would explain the accent, as well as the oddly out-of-date terms the kid uses. He probably picked them up from his grandma. Jake has a lot more energy than you think you can deal with, but Dirk obviously feels differently. He’s been following the boy around all day like a baby duck would to its mother. It’s so sweet, the way that the two of them are playing, and you can’t help but watch them, smiling.

That is, until the Jake kid falls out of a big-ass tree.

He’s crying now, and so are Jade and John. Dirk looks a lot more shocked than you’ve ever seen him, but he doesn’t cry. He kneels beside Jake, taking charge like you always told him Striders do, doing his best to comfort Jake. You’d be proud if you weren’t currently too busy trying to help the other adults deal with the situation to do anything else.

“He can’t move his arm.”

“Oh no… Do you think it’s broken?”

Jake starts crying even more when he overhears that. Dirk just holds the hand on his non-injured arm. “It’s okay, dude. You’re gonna be fine. I’ve broken stuff before, and it’s not even that bad.”

Dirk insists upon riding in the ambulance with Jake and his grandma, as do the other kids. In the end, though, only he, Jane and Roxy are actually allowed to, and you have to chauffer the left-behind John and Jade to the hospital so that they won’t throw tantrums. Because, evidently, your Mustang’s just as cool as an ambulance.

A few hours later, Jake’s perfectly fine. Jane says she’s okay with her party getting cut short with the fall, since she’d already opened her presents and eaten cake. Besides, she’d gotten an ambulance ride out of it. Kanaya brings a new box of Sharpies for the kids to sign Jake’s cast with, but after they’re done with that, they all start drawing on each other. John even comes close to doodling on Jane’s dress, probably resulting in her punching him in the face if Crocker hadn’t intervened. Maybe giving permanent markers to six-year-olds wasn’t such a good idea…

Dirk remains at his new best bro’s side, holding his hand protectively and making sure that he’s okay until you decide that it’s time to go home. He fights you, but after bribing him with vending machine candy, you convince him to let go of Jake and follow you out into the hallway.

“You did good, kiddo,” you tell him. “I’m proud of you.”

He shrugs. “I want Skittles.”

You chuckle. “All right, you can have your Skittles. They’re victory Skittles. For facing your fear of people and handling a crisis like a pro, both in the same day.”

Dirk sort of pouts at you, but says nothing.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a bitchy-looking nurse with fish-themed scrubs staring at you. You half expect her to ask you to take off your shades, which…. Just isn’t going to happen. You’ll just tell her you have eye problems or something.

To your surprise, Dirk actually waves at her. And she waves back. Smiling. Not confused, smiling. In recognition.

“Hi, Meenah.”

The nurse grins, kneeling down to tousle Dirk’s hair. “Hey, li’l asskicker. Been awhile.” She then proceeds to give you the deadliest glare of the century.

“It’s okay,” Dirk says in the same tone of voice one uses when trying to calm their growling attack dog. “That’s my Bro. He’s cool.”

Meenah doesn’t stop glaring, and you’re starting to feel really uncomfortable. “We should go, squirt. It’s been a long day.”

“Bye, Meenah.”

“You take care of yourself, boy.” She smiles at Dirk before frowning at you again. 

 

-

 

“Who was that?” you ask Dirk once you get in the car.

“Meenah,” he answers plainly. “She was always my nurse.”

That…was unexpected. “Your nurse?”

Dirk nods. “I used to get hurt a lot. I broke a lot of stuff.”

“From before I got you?”

He doesn’t answer you for awhile. Then he gives you the slightest of nods.

“How’d you get hurt so bad?” you ask, knowing the answer.

He shrugs. “My old dad. He hit me sometimes. And pushed me. Sometimes down stairs.”

Down stairs? Shit… “How old were you?”

“Five, maybe.”

Five? You’re still trying to process this information. Who would hurt a little kid? And why would anyone think it’s a good idea to push something so tiny down stairs? He could’ve died! You feel a wave of anger rise up in your chest, causing you to clutch the steering wheel a little harder than you should, your knuckles turning white. You don’t think you could hear any more of this, but you feel like you have to ask. “Was Dave hurt too?”

Dirk shakes his head. “Mom took him. He was the baby.”

You’re both babies, you want to say. “Where is she now?”

“Dead.”

“And…your dad?” you ask, making a vow to kill him in the most violent way possible if he’s alive

“Dead too,” Dirk answers quietly. “The house burned down while they were taking me. He did it on purpose.” He shudders, very slightly, but not slightly enough for you not to notice. “He was trying to burn me, too.”

You pull over suddenly and take him into your arms, not able to stand it anymore. “It’s okay now. You’re safe. And I swear to you right now, little guy, that nobody’s ever gonna hurt you again.”

Dirk peeks up at you, and those giant fucking baby owl eyes are almost too much for you to take. “Promise?”

You hold him even more tightly. “Promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally all I want to do right now is draw hundreds of tiny Jades. ;n;
> 
> And I had this idea of Meenah as a sassy nurse, because of her Life aspect, and because, come on. A sassy Meenah nurse would be awesome.


	10. Be Eridan

= => Be Numbah One in a ridiculous scarf.

Okay, you resent that a little. You do not sound like Numbah One, and your scarf is fuckin’ awesome. Your name is Eridan Ampora, the next Ernest Hemingway, and you’re almost one hundred percent sure that you’re about to lose your boyfriend.

You’re scared of losing him. It’s probably the last thing you’d ever want to have happen, but there’s really no denying the inevitable. The two of you have been drifting apart lately, and there’s nothing that can be done to fix things. Sadly, you know it’s over.

The drifting, you admit, is mutual. Kar’s obviously not that into you anymore, and you’ve sort of semi-consciously accepted it and moved on. You don’t blame him, and you don’t blame yourself, for that matter. These things happen, and who are you to stand in the way of his happiness?

Someone once said, “If you love something, let it go.” And you really do love Kar. You’ve loved him ever since you were stuck in an elevator at the library together, and his claustrophobia showed you that he was more than just Sol’s angry friend. He was fragile, imperfect, human Karkat Vantas. You realized that he had layers, you connected with him. You kept him calm until you were both rescued. 

You’ve been there for him ever since. But the relationship hasn’t been as one-sided as Kar would argue that it has. He’s the only one who listens to you. The only one your thoughts, feelings, opinions, and dreams actually matter to. Kar never ignores you or brushes you aside like you’re not important.

Still. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve never acted like lovers. Your relationship was never really all that romantic in nature; you were more like very, very close friends. With benefits… Lots of benefits…

No, you aren’t going to think any sexual thoughts. Now isn’t the time for that.

You’re ending it today, whenever he gets home from babysitting. And honestly, you won’t mind as long as you remain close. Of course you’ll insist that he keep living with you, because that’s what friends do. It’s not like you don’t have the money to keep him here, and you’re not throwing him out on the streets.

You hear the door open and take in a breath, bracing yourself for… Oh, it’s just Sol. You forgot that he has a key.

“Hey assface,” he says, that stupid lisp of his making the insult sound hilarious. “Where’s KK?”

You cross your arms. “Not here, obviously. So why don’t you scram?”

“Nope.” The asshole proceeds to plop down on your couch without invitation. “Let me guess. He dumped you already.”

You hesitate. “No.”

“What? Got nothing better to say, Ampora?” Sollux smirks. 

More hesitation. You finally give in. “Don’t tell Kar, but I know he’s over me.” You sigh.

He rolls his eyes. “What else is new? Bees making honey? C’mon, Eridan, everyone knows this ship is already at the bottom of the ocean.”

You growl. “Shut up, Sol.”

Sollux lets out a short, smart-ass laugh. You want to hit him, but… As much as you hate to admit it, that would be a waste of a perfectly nice face. He’s not horrible-looking, even if his personality is complete shit.

“Look at you, can’t even…” Sollux trails off when your eyes meet. His are dichromatic, one blue and one brown, and you’ve always secretly kind of liked them…

Before you know it, the two of you are engaged in the sloppiest makeout of the century. You have to admit that Sol’s not the worst kisser… Actually, he’s damned good at it.

That’s precisely when you hear the door slam shut, and you look up to see the devastated look of utter betrayal on your now-almost-definitely-ex’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was horrible. *retreats into Sweatertown*


	11. New Wife

= => Be Dave again.

Karkat left about an hour ago. You had offered to drive him, like almost every night, but like almost every night, he refused and walked. Sometimes you worry about him. It’s a big city, and he could get hurt on the streets. Alone. In the dark.

You’re trying not to think about it when the doorbell rings.

“Karkat?”

He doesn’t say anything to you. He looks terrible, like he’s in shock or something, and it’s pretty obvious that he’s cried recently. You instantly let him in, hoping that he worst of your fears haven’t come true.

“Something happen, man?” you ask, concerned. “Is it my fault? Karkat, hey, I told you I’d drive you—”

“I walked in on my boyfriend and my best friend making out,” Karkat interrupts bluntly. He looks really hurt about it, and he has every right to be.

“Are you okay?”

He growls at you, tears forming in his eyes. “No, I am not fucking okay! I just saw my best friend tongue-fucking my boyfriend!”

“Need anything?” you ask.

Karkat wipes his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, shrugging. “Could I stay here? Just for tonight, I swear.”

“You can stay as long as you want.”

He shakes his head. “Just tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll…I don’t know. I’ll call Kanaya or Porrim or someone, it’s fine.”

You frown. “No it’s not. You’re staying here.”

“I can’t.”

“Vantas, you’re staying with us if I have to fight you about it.” 

He pauses, then shakes his head again. “I’m not just staying here and burdening you with my life bullshit.”

You sigh. “What if I offered you a full-time live-in nannying job? Or some shit like that? I’d pay you for it, even.”

“Dave…”

“I’m serious. God knows you’d be appreciated around here.”

Karkat sighs. “You’ll never let it go unless I say yes, will you?”

“Hell no.”

“Then I guess I’ve got nothing else to do.”

Dirk’s gotten out of bed and is watching you both from the doorway. “Karkat’s gonna be living here?”

Karkat shrugs. “I guess I am.”

Dirk wastes no time in walking over to him, grabbing him by the wrist, and pulling him upstairs to his room.

Every pillow and blanket in the entire house is made into a giant pillow fort by tonight’s end.

 

-

 

It’s been about two weeks since Karkat started living with you, and you’ve begun to notice just how adorable he really is. You’ve learned a lot about him just by living with him. For example, you now know that he (by the loosest definition) sings in the shower, uses any excuse to stay in his pajamas all day, and uses one coffee mug all week before washing it or getting a new one. The last quirk seems to get on Dirk’s very last nerve, for no apparent reason, and he always tries to sneakily put Karkat’s mug in the sink, only to have him blow a fuse and threaten to ground the kid for life if he does it again. Dirk does anyway.

“Bro said you’re supposed to put used cups in the sink,” he states calmly, when asked. “I get in trouble when I don’t do it, so you shouldn’t be able to do it, either.”

The mug thing becomes a kind of running gag in your household. One morning, instead of finding his mug in its usual spot, Karkat finds a piece of paper with “Never leave a cup here again” written on it in orange marker. Karkat then gets a cup of coffee, drinks it, finds a grey crayon and hastily writes underneath the note in all-caps “MAD, DIRK?” before putting the cup down in that exact spot. Dirk is not amused, but you are.

Today, Karkat and Dirk attempt to make something, resulting in gooey, flat abominations on baking sheets.

“The fuck is that?” you ask, cautiously poking one with a fork. You swear it hisses at you.

Karkat frowns. “Cookies, dipshit.”

“Karkat Vantas, that is a straight-out lie.”

Dirk pouts at you, crossing his arms. “Bro, that’s not funny.”

“Neither is this mess you both made.”

“We got up at five a.m. to make all these goddamned cookies.” 

“Dirk, you little asshole, you are six years old, we did not get up at five, stop lying to your brother.”

“Are they edible?” you ask, cautiously picking one up. To your surprise, it does not melt your skin.

Karkat frowns. “Of course they are!”

You cautiously take a bite. “Holy shit, you guys. How much sugar did you put in? My teeth are hurting.”

“Two and a half cups, I think.”

“How much flour?”

“Like… Two and a half cups, probably.”

“No.” You put down the other half of the cookie. “This is awful. I think I’m going into diabetic shock.”

“You’re not diabetic, Bro.”

You shake your head. “No, that one bite of cookie did it. It gave me diabe-tus.”

“You’re a horrible person.”

“I know.”

 

-

 

“Those cookies really were horrible,” you argue. Dirk went to bed of his own volition for once, leaving you and Karkat alone. You’re currently on the couch, half-paying attention to some stupid reality show. 

Karkat rolls his eyes. “Yeah, thanks for taking pictures and sending them to everyone you know.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re not cute, Dave Strider.”

You smirk. “Oh, I think we both know that I’m very cute. More cuteness than you can even begin to handle.” He mumbles something that you can’t quite make out. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Don’t worry about it.” He has the slightest of blushes forming on his face.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

Karkat’s arm brushes yours slightly, and you feel an electric charge go through your body. You say nothing for awhile, your eyes meeting, neither of you looking away. You’ve always thought his eyes were beautiful. And his face. And his lips. 

You lean forward, lightly pressing your own to them. They feel just as soft as they look.

Karkat pulls away after that, and you realize that you probably made a big mistake by kissing him. After all, he did just go through a pretty tough breakup. To your surprise, however, he kisses you back pretty passionately after a few short breaths.

Before either of you can fully register what’s happening, you’re making out on the couch in a heated frenzy, touching, kissing, and grinding away several months’ worth of sexual tension. You wonder why this never happened before. Kissing Karkat just feels right, somehow, and you never want to stop…

…until he puts a hand on your chest and tells you to.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, hoping you didn’t do anything.

He shakes his head panting. “Clothes stay on,” he warns you. 

“Cool,” you say, shrugging. “I can respect that.” You can’t really expect him to put out on the first….whatever you were just doing. First makeout session? Anyway, you don’t want to rush it. With that, you pick up right where you left off.

Damn, you hope this becomes a regular thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mug thing really did happen. It's a reoccuring thing with my Scottish sister; I am KK, she is Dirk.
> 
> Sis, you do not touch my cups. Ever. ._.


	12. How to Woo a Cancer

You’re really glad you made a move on Karkat, but you have no idea what you’re supposed to do next. Aside from the occasional kiss on the cheek, the two of you haven’t really done anything that would set you apart as a couple. You don’t want to push your luck by doing anything he doesn’t want you to, but you want to at least act like you’re together. You decide to start by holding his hand.

It happens one day while Jake’s over to play with Dirk, and the two of you are watching them to make sure that above all, no one goes anywhere near a tree. You just reach out without any warning and lace your fingers with Karkat’s. He reddens, but doesn’t move away, and you smile. Success.

It seems like Karkat’s in no hurry to make any moves on you. He’s content with just being pursued, or maybe he’s just too shy, but either way you realize that it’s entirely up to you to move the relationship forward. You’re pretty sure that if you do something wrong, Karkat will (loudly) let you know.

You notice that he secretly really loves cliched and sappy things, like old-fashioned romance and domestic family stuff. It’s adorable, but you suck at traditional.....anything, so you’ll just have to improvise. You want to impress him so badly, but you have no idea how.

You’ve recently learned that while Karkat hates being touched, he likes cuddling, so you let him cuddle the everliving fuck out of you whenever he wants. You let him sit in your lap, rest his head on your shoulder, and basically use you as a piece of furniture. In all your years, you never thought that you would end up as some tiny brunet’s couch, but are you proud of yourself? Yes. Yes you are. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been happier in your life, actually. When Karkat’s cuddling up to your side, and especially when Dirk’s curled up in your lap...It does something to you. You feel things you never thought you’d feel. Is this what having a real family feels like? If so, you could get used to it.

 

-

 

There’s a light on on the answering machine. New message. You press play, fully expecting it to be one of your actors, bitching yet again at you over the script revisions. It’s not.

“KK, it’s me, Sollux. I know you probably don’t want to talk to me... Actually, you said you never wanted to hear from me again. I don’t blame you. But... I’m really, really sorry. You have to believe me. 

“You don’t have to forgive me. You don’t even have to be my friend anymore. But please, KK, call me back. Don’t ignore me anymore. I miss you a lot...” The voice sounds genuinely apologetic. “Please, KK, let’s talk about this. You told me you don’t wanna hear any excuses, and I don’t have any. I just wanna hear your voice. Call me back. Okay?”

That was the end of the message. You have no idea who “KK” is, but since Sollux is the name of Karkat’s old best friend, it’s probably for him. For a moment, you’re torn between deleting the message and telling Karkat, since the guy did sort of betray him, but you leave it alone. It’s up for him to decide whether or not to call Sollux back.

You haven’t seen Karkat since this morning, and you decide to go looking for him. Thinking about how he’s been hurt before has made you really, really want to kiss him, but you can’t find him anywhere. You start to worry.

You open the door to his room, and your heart almost stops.

“Karkat?!”


	13. Bee Sollux

==> Be the lispy hacker.

 

Fuck that. You don’t lisp, okay? You’re getting rid of it. And as for the hacker bit, that’s true. You’re a damned fine one, too, if you do say so yourself. You even have a part-time job as a white hat for a few major companies, but that’s beside the point. Your name is Sollux Captor, and you just fucked up a five-year friendship over some asshole trust-fund baby.

You never meant to kiss him. You never wanted to kiss him. But for some stupid, inexplicable reason, you don’t regret doing it. You just wish that KK hadn’t have had to find out like he did. He’s like your brother, only even closer, since your real brother is a mentally-damaged crybaby who shouts cursewords at random strangers. The last thing you’d ever wanted to do is hurt KK.

But you did. A lot. He already has self-esteem issues, you selfish ass, you didn’t need to make out with his boyfriend right in front of him. He hates himself enough as it is. Way to go, Captor, you win the award for Worst Friend in the Universe.

And now, if you haven’t fucked up enough, you’ve also managed to steal his man. Nice, you can add that to your “Dick Moves Sollux has Pulled in the Last Calendar Month” list. And not surprisingly, it’s a long one.

It’s not that you even wanted Eridan in the first place. Or maybe you did. Maybe subconsciously, you kept wishing that they would break up so that the two of you could get together. Maybe you were just selfish all along.

To your surprise, Ampora actually makes a decent boyfriend. He’s still a pompous douche, and you still argue a lot, but it’s different now. Arguing is your thing. Insults are now bizarre versions of pet names. Your relationship is complicated, but it works, and it only works because neither of you actually mean what you say, and both of you understand this. 

You want KK back, though. You miss him so much, and you’d do anything to get him back as a best friend. You call him for the millionth time, but he doesn’t answer. You call his home phone, leaving a pathetic voice mail that you hope he gets, before allowing yourself to be dragged out into (gasp) the sunlight by Eridan.

He’s bitching about how you spend too much time on the computer and how he’s taking you out whether you like it or not. You want to strangle him with his scarf.

Eridan takes you to the beach, and you can’t bring yourself to fight him about it. He just looks so happy and peaceful near the water, it’s almost adorable. Almost.

.....Okay, it’s pretty adorable. You even let him hold your hand for once. 

Eridan frowns. “Sol, you can at least pretend you’re not dyin’ inside right now.”

“What?” you snap. You really hadn’t meant to do that, but oh well. Can’t take it back. “Sorry. This place...brings back memories.”

“What memories?” he asks, gently squeezing your hand. He’s actually worried about you.

You shrug. “My friend drowned here when we were kids. I wasn’t planning on coming back.” You also hadn’t planned on bringing Aradia up, since even thinking about her hurts. 

She had been your best friend since birth, and you had loved her. She was so full of life, thirsty for fun and adventure, while still harboring an obsession for the morbid and unusual. Aradia was your first crush, and you had to be there when she died. You couldn’t save her. You never seemed to go out much or talk to people after her death, not that you felt that there was any connection. You do know that you can’t afford to lose anyone else like you lost her, which is mostly why the thing with KK’s upset you so much.

Eridan hugs you, and you’re glad that he does. But you’d be even more glad if it weren’t ninety degrees out, so you tell him to save it for home.

 

-

 

You text KK a few more times, to no avail. Finally, he answers back:

**WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT. HOLY SHIT, MY INBOX HAS NEVER BEEN SO FULL IN MY LIFE.**

You smile slightly, hopefully, and send out a quick reply:

**2o you fiinally deciided two text me back, huh?**

**DON’T BE A SMARTASS. I’M STILL PISSED AT YOU.**

**kk, ii’m 2orry. Plea2e don’t hate me.**

**I DON’T HATE YOU. I’M JUST PISSED, THAT’S ALL.**

You breathe a sigh of relief.

**LOOK. MAYBE I SHOULD BE THANKING YOU, EVEN. I’D NEVER HAVE GOTTEN WITH DAVE IF YOU HAD ANY SHAME OR STANDARDS.**

**whatever happened two “ii don’t liike striider”?**

**SHUT UP. DIDN’T I JUST TELL YOU I WAS PISSED AT YOU?**

**ANYWAY. I GUESS I CAN FORGIVE YOU SINCE I WAS PLANNING ON BREAKING UP WITH HIM ANYWAY. HAVE FUN WITH YOUR PRETTY BOY.**

**oh, ii wiill. ii’ll try two at lea2t. he’2 an a22 2tiill.**

**IS THAT WHY YOU KISSED HIM?**

**2orry.**

**DON’T APOLOGIZE. JUST BE CAREFUL WITH HIM, BECAUSE HE’S A DELICATE, SENSITIVE FUCKING FLOWER.**

**READ THAT IN A CONDESCENDING TONE, COMPLETE WITH ROLLED EYES.**

**ii already diid.**

You don’t get a reply for awhile and you start to worry. Is he sick of you already? Was he just trying to get rid of you when he said he forgave you? You send him another message.

**kk? you 2tiill there?**

**I’M HERE. I JUST DON’T FEEL RIGHT.**

**what?**

**DIZZY. SORT OF. I T’S FNE, SOLLUX.**

Typos? In a Karkat Vantas rage-text? He never makes typos. He must be pretty sick.

**are you ok? do you need me two come over?**

**IM FIMRF**

**what, kk? ii can't read that.**

You call the house to find out if he's okay. You're answered by Dave's brother, and he tells you that Dave just took KK to the hospital. 

You grab Eridan by the scarf and pull him to the car, demanding that he drive you there. You have to make sure KK's all right.


	14. Dave Loves Karkat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support, friends! I greatly appreciate it!

==> Be the guy worrying to death about his boyfriend.

 

You found Karkat on the floor of his room, too weak to even move, so, naturally, you took him to the emergency room. You didn’t have time to make other arrangements, so you had Bro come over and watch Dirk. The only thing you had time to do was grab a blanket for Karkat, because he was fucking _vibrating_ in your arms, and you couldn’t stand for him to be any more uncomfortable than he had to be.

Now you’re holding his hand while the nurses give him a blood transfusion, and you’ve never been so terrified in your life even though they assure you he’ll be fine. Apparently Karkat has some form of anemia, and this shit is actually pretty _normal_ for him. You’re so glad he told you about this before he gave you a fucking heart attack.

Karkat seems to be getting a little better, but he’s still pretty weak and dizzy. You sit on the edge of his bed, stroking his hair and holding his hand, mostly to comfort yourself. You wonder what would happen if you kissed him right now but decide against it.

Some really tall guy with unevenly-cut hair and glasses barges through the door, with Eridan in tow. “KK!” Must be Sollux.

You fully expect a dramatic confrontation, but instead, you are faced with Karkat sitting up and greeting him with a slight hand-wave. “I’m fine, don’t worry. I told you so, didn’t I?”

“I got worried when you didn’t text back. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Oh, then they must have reconciled already. So much for the soap-opera-worthy  
conversation you were secretly hoping for. Oh well, at least you won’t have to worry about Karkat getting all upset and crying; you never want to have to see that again in your life.

 

In all this worry, you’ve realized something: you love Karkat. You don’t like him, you love him. You can’t live without him, and you’d do anything for him if it made him happy. You love him, and nothing will ever stop you from loving him. Not even being thrown off a cliff. Why? Because your ghost would love him. It’s be just like that Whoopie Goldberg movie with the ghostly pottery, and you only know this because Karkat made you watch it and bawled the whole time. He’d be happy if you came back and haunted him like in that movie, making clay pots together to the tune of “Unchained Melody”. And that’s one reason why you love him.

You decide to tell him tonight, once the two of you get home.

Dirk is waiting for you at the doorway. He and Dave have been drawing pictures all day, and it makes you smile. They’re so damned cute. 

“Dirk’s Bro,” Dave says, tugging at your shirt. You kneel down to his eye-level, and he whispers to you, “Dirk likes Jake.”

Dirk gives his twin a sharp kick. “Shut up.”

“Ow! Bro, Dirk kicked me!”

You sigh. “Dirk, don’t kick Dave.”

Dirk shrugs at you. “He asked for it.”

“It left a bruise,” Dave whines.

“Get over it.”

“Bro! Dirk told me to get over it!”

Derick shrugs, looking over at you as if pleading for help. You shrug back, not sure that you want to get in the middle of this.

“Dave likes John.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Dave likes John, Dave likes John, Dave wants to kiss John.”

Dave shoves Dirk over. “Stop it! Bro!”

Dirk looks up at you. “Bro, Dave pushed me. Tell him to stop.”

“You kicked me, you mountain of cock!”

“Dave, you’re not supposed to say ‘cock’.”

“You called me one earlier!”

Finally, Karkat has enough. “ _Will everyone just shut the fuck up?! I just got back from the fucking hospital, I don’t need all this shit right now!!_ ”

All is silent. When Karkat says to shut up, it’s always in your best interest to do so.

 

-

 

You ask Bro to let Dirk sleep over with Dave, giving you time alone with Karkat. None of the parties involved complain, and you end up tangled on the couch watching one of those horrible romance movies. A really intense love scene comes on, and the two of you begin fervently making out. You can’t help but wonder, if you were in a movie like the one playing, would the audience get turned on by this? They should, you think, because it’s hot. It has to be.

Your shirts come off, and for once, Karkat doesn’t protest. Your hands roam his chest, finding a nipple and rubbing it slowly, making Karkat let out a less-than-quiet moan. You leave his lips for a moment, kissing his neck all the way up to his jawline and whispering, “I love you, Karkat,” right into his ear. He practically melts at that, kissing your lips roughly before pressing your foreheads together. “Don’t you love me back? you ask.

Karkat nods. “You know I do.” He kisses you again, and the making out resumes. 

You’re grinding together now. At this rate, you’re wondering if you’ll have your first time tonight. If you do, you’ll make it perfect, but if you don’t, that’s okay too. Because you love him and he loves you, and everything’s going great. Love has made you into a total sap, but you don’t even mind. You’re too focused on the perfect, beautiful body pressed against yours.

After a few more minutes, Karkat gets up, panting. “I... Bathroom.” Poor flustered baby. 

“Horny?” you ask, already knowing the answer. He doesn’t reply, instead making a mad dash to his room. You smirk, overly proud of yourself for getting him so turned on without even really touching him.

You give him a few minutes before going upstairs to make sure Karkat’s not mad at you for teasing him, even though you doubt he is. If you’re being honest with yourself, you just want to cuddle him some more before going to bed. You knock on the door twice, with no reply, and you wonder if he actually is pissed off. You open the door, only to see...

“...Whoah.”

_That_ is a welcome sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY. 
> 
> I'm stalling, because I don't want to freak anyone out or trigger something that I did not tag, or invalidate someone's struggles. I also am afraid that, by even adding this chapter, Kankri Vantas will spring to life from a webcomic and snap my spine.


	15. I'm a Freak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry if I've invalidated your struggles in any way.

Karkat’s getting himself off, obviously, but not in the way that was expected. He has a few of his fingers up between his legs in a place that most certainly isn’t his ass...

.... _Holy shit, he has both_....

This definitely explains a lot. Like why he’s been avoiding sex. He’s probably been trying to hide this from you, but you don’t see why. You love him no matter what, and this...new bit of information, will probably make it easier on him, pain-wise, when you do it for the first time. Not to mention the fact that this unlikely scenario is turning you on like crazy for reasons you can’t seem to place.

Karkat finally notices you, and he looks mortified. As you would be, if he’d walked in on you doing this... Actually, no, you’d have some charming flirtatious remark for him and probably ask him to join you. But the thought is the same.

He doesn’t say a word, he just covers himself up and hugs a pillow. He looks like he might cry.

“Babe...” You slowly move toward him, sitting beside him on the bed and touching his shoulder. “Karkat, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to walk in on anything.”

“Are you going to break up with me now?” Karkat asks you, tears forming in his eyes. 

“No, no, baby, don’t cry...” You do your best to wipe them away. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m a freak,” he answers bitterly.

You hold him in your arms, managing to ignore the fact that he’s naked and attractive. “No you’re not. And I’d still love you if you were.”

Karkat presses his face into your chest, letting out a quiet sob. 

“Shhh, don’t cry.” You pet his hair. “I love you.”

It’s muffled in against your chest and strangled through tears, but you can just make out an ‘I love you too’.

 

-

 

==> Be Karkat

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you don’t know what you are. You just know that you’re a freak, and that you’ve been hurting for as long as you can remember. 

Kankri told you that the term for what you are is “intersex”. He said that there’s nothing wrong with what you are, and that you can be anything you want. That you can choose a gender, or go between, and that you can be attracted to anyone, or no one, like him. He would know, you think, because he seems to be an expert in this sort of shit. You are a guy. And you are pretty sure you’re gay. But you still don’t know what that means.

Well, no matter what it means, you hate yourself, and that won’t change anytime soon. Dave, however, doesn’t seem to feel the same way. He says he loves you, and you really believe him. You just hope he isn’t lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worst, shortest chapter ever. I'm so sorry. *hides face*


	16. Just Do It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the fail-porn.

==> Be that asshole with the shades again.

 

Karkat’s been sleeping with you. Not sleeping with you, sleeping with you. Not yet. Just literally sleeping in the same bed as you. You’re glad that he trusts you enough to do this, and that it seems to make him feel safe. 

After tonight, though, it’s not just going to be in the literal sense. You both mutually agreed that tonight’s as good a night as any to start doing a bit less sleeping in favor of some.... “sleeping”.

You wonder if he’s as terrified as you are. Of course you’ve done this before...But not with anyone you’ve actually loved. Not like Karkat. You fully intend on making tonight perfect, even if you become a nervous wreck in the process. There will be no fucking up tonight.

Purposefully avoiding the obvious joke that could be derived from the use of that particular word.

You’re both naked by the time you’re finished with this overly long and complicated thought, with Karkat in your lap. This is when you realize that neither of you have any idea what to do next. You both sort of sit there together awkwardly, looking each other over. You can’t even manage a cocky “Like what you see?” Nope. Utter silence. This is horrible.

Almost a full four minutes pass before you just think, _fuck it_ , and proceed to kiss him like you’ve never kissed before. This is apparently the right thing to do, because after a steamy makeout session combined with some carefully-placed touches, Karkat finally has enough of your foreplay bullshit and impales himself on you.

You’re not even going to complain, because, fuck, that feels good.

“This is what you’re into, huh?” you ask playfully. Karkat shoots you a smirk before taking off, riding you into the mattress. The pace is faster than you would have expected, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. In fact, you could probably literally do this all day if your body would let you. Karkat seems to be enjoying himself too, if his little “oh”s and moans of your name are any indication.

 

==>Be Karkat

Fuck yes, you’re enjoying yourself. Dave’s a lot bigger than you’d thought, and... Oh _god_.... There went one orgasm. Okay, this is too much to deal with. He’s taking over.

 

==> Be that other guy again.

Karkat stops suddenly, pulling you on top of him. Unexpected, but okay. He’s panting now, his legs wrapped tightly around your waist. You try moving slowly. He bitches at you to go faster. So you try giving him everything you’ve got, fucking him with all the speed and force you can manage. He screams, so you smirk and keep doing that.

==> Be Karkat again.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, _there, **yes**_ , oh god, _Dave_ , more, fuck, yes, good, this... This... No, no narrating, no can thinking words, go away...

== > Okay, then be Dave.

You finish up at about the same time, panting each other’s names. You hold Karkat to your chest, petting his hair and not saying anything for a few seconds.

“Damn,” you start. “Just... _damn_.”

He kisses your jaw and rests his head in the crook of your neck. He’s apparently at a lost for words, too.

“I love you.” No answer. You start to get concerned. Oh...He’s already asleep, okay then. You smile, kissing his forehead. “You’re too cute sometimes, I swear.”

 

-

 

Karkat’s still asleep when you get up. His sleeping face is adorable, but once ten thirty rolls around, it becomes a lot less cute and a lot more frustrating. You told yourself that you’d let your baby sleep in as late as he wanted today, but you’re starting to get impatient. Therefore, you sic Dirk on him.

“Care to explain why you had our son dump cold water all over me?!”

You don’t know whether to laugh, give some kind of cheeky reply, or point out to him that he started acknowledging Dirk as his own kid. You end up doing all three.


	17. Katnapped

You love your boyfriend so much, and you aren’t even ashamed to admit it. He’s just so fucking adorable and perfect that all you ever want to do for the rest of your life is cuddle him. That was the single most obnoxious sentence ever concocted by you, and you will never speak it aloud, but you still don’t regret thinking it. You are in love with Karkat Vantas.

You’re in a great mood today just from thinking about your precious little Karkitten (the nickname you’ve given him for the sole purpose of pissing him off), and you don’t think anything can ruin it.

Until you get a call from an unknown number while you’re at work.

 

-

 

==> Be Karkat

 

You literally just told this kid that you aren’t taking him to the park. About five times, actually. Yet he continues to ask, and it’s getting on every last one of your nerves.

“I’m not taking you to the park, Dirk Strider,” you tell him for what feels like the millionth time. “Ask me again, and I’m taking you home.”

“Karkat,” bitches the kid, “you said we just had to go to the bank. I’m bored.”

“Too bad. And I didn’t say _just_ the bank. We’ve got shit to do.”

“But...”

You sigh. “Look. If you can behave for the rest of the day, I’ll take you to Jake’s later. Deal?” Honestly, that wasn’t just a bribe. You love Dirk, he’s a great kid, but you’ve had enough of him for today. You’ll be dumping him at the English household for awhile even if he doesn’t behave.

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

That’s all you can say before you’re knocked out from behind.

 

-

 

You wake up in a dark place, and it takes you a few seconds for your brain to register what’s happened. Then you remember that Dirk was with you and you realize that you should be trying to find him. You try to get up, only to find that you’ve been tied to your chair. Your mouth has also been taped shut.

You wonder where Dirk is. Is he safe? Did he get taken too, or did he manage to escape? Your head still hurts from the blow that rendered you unconscious, and it’s hard to think about so many things at once. As your mind races and throbs, you can just make out two dark figures having a conversation. One of them is talking on a cellphone. 

“Dave Strider, right? The famous movie director?”

Dave? Wait... Now it makes sense. These assholes obviously kidnapped you to get something from Dave. 

You must’ve made some kind of noise, because the guy on the phone looks at you and smirks. “Look who’s awake.” The other one rips the tape from your mouth, and it hurts. 

“Let me go, you son of a bitch!!” you shout the second the tape is removed. You are rewarded with a punch.

“You recognize that voice, don’t you, Strider?” the guy on the phone asks Dave. “We’ve got your kid here too. Kind of a two-for-one deal. I can get them back to you in one piece in exchange for, oh I dunno... Let’s say fifty grand for the boyfriend, fifty grand more for the kid?”

You struggle some more, shouting out Dave’s name. The other man hits you again.

“You’ve got forty-eight hours to get the money. No hurry, though. I’m sure this one’s parts are worth a fortune on the black market. As for the kid, well... I heard it’s easier to train younger sex slaves.”

You want to beat this guy to a bloody pulp for even suggesting that of Dirk. “You leave my kid the fuck al--”

You’re interrupted with another blow. “Quiet!” You’re feeling dizzy. “You know what? Because of your boy-toy’s little outburst, make that twenty-four hours. Clock’s ticking, Strider. We’ll call back in exactly two hours.”

That’s the last thing you hear before you pass out again.


	18. All or Nothing

==> Be Dave.

You clutch your phone tightly in your hand after receiving the call. You don’t know what to do next; even though you have the money, you don’t trust the kidnappers to keep the end of their deal and give you Dirk and Karkat. So you decide to make some calls before making your next move.

 

-

 

Bro had recently started seeing a detective, Richard Crocker, who was coincidentally also Jane’s father. They agreed to help you out, as well as not to inform Jane or Dave that Dirk was in danger. Not yet, anyway. You also remembered that Sollux is a computer genius, and that Eridan’s father has a ridiculous number of connections ranging from the mafia to royalty. They eagerly agree to, no, _insist on_ helping you find Karkat, and Sollux gives you another number that could be of importance. 

Terezi Pyrope is well on her way to becoming the next district attorney, despite the fact that she was born blind. She is one of Karkat’s closest friends, and her mother is the chief of police. The Pyropes also volunteer to help with your cause, making it their number one priority.

You’ll get them back. You’re sure of it. The only question now is...in what condition?

 

-

 

“Can you trace the call?”

Sollux rolls his eyes at you. “Motherfucker, _please_.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Inspector Crocker shoots him a look of quiet disbelief. “All good criminals know how to hide themselves from being tracked.”

Sollux just looks back at Eridan, shaking his head as if to say ‘ _This bitch_ ’. No one really questions his abilities after that point.

“We just have to wait until they call back again, which should be in... Four minutes, give or take.”

Sure enough, your phone goes off, and you answer. The entire room watches you. “I have the money,” you tell him, looking at everyone else. 

“Good. Now are you gonna hand it over, or what?”

“One question though. How can I trust you to keep my boys safe ‘til then?” you ask, your Strider-cool for once paying off because you are secretly _flipping the fuck out_.

“Fair question,” the man on the line admits. “How about we arrange a trade? You, me, boardwalk. Three hours from now. Sound about right?”

“I don’t like the sound of that, but I don’t guess you’d be willing to do anything better. Better, as in just taking them home right now and calling the whole thing off.”

The guy on the other end lets out a sharp laugh. “Cute, Strider. But remember, you have to hold up to your end of the bargain too, or the deal’s off.”

“Same goes for you. I get them back in one piece, or you’ll get no money.”

Sollux gives you a thumbs up, indicating that he finished tracing the call. You can end it whenever you want now.

“I mean it, though,” you insist. “Don’t fucking touch them. For every scratch, you lose a grand. You got that?”

“I got it, Strider, keep your pants on. Oh, and one more thing. Bring anyone with you, and...Well, let’s just say it ain’t gonna go well for these two.”

Click.

“I’ve got an address,” Sollux announces. “Let’s just hope they don’t move.”

“I called dad,” sighs Eridan, rolling his eyes. You sense some daddy issues. “He says he’ll ‘see what he can do’.”

“What does that mean?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Could mean nothin’. Could mean...somethin’.” He looks kind of reluctant to talk about it in front of Chief Pyrope, so that “somethin’” is probably pretty badass.

You have the entire police force, and now potentially some underground organization at your disposal. To be fair, you aren’t bringing someone with you.

You’re bringing a goddamned army. 

 

 

-

 

==> Be Karkat.

 

You wake up again on the floor. The men are gone, and so is the chair, even though you’re still tied up. The tape is still off, and you’re glad, but you decide to keep quiet for now. You don’t want the wrong people hearing you.

The walls in this place must be paper-thin, because you can clearly make out a very angry conversation from the next room.

“....was a fucking _bluff_! Do you even realize what you just _fucking **did**_ !?”

You wonder what the man’s talking about, so you listen more closely.

“When he sees what you did to the kid... Fuck, we’ll be lucky to get _anything_! Look at ‘im! Can’t even fucking move!”

The kid, you realize is Dirk. And something bad just definitely happened to him....You suddenly feel sick. 

The rest of the conversation is blurred with shock, and the men eventually move on to somewhere else. You have to at least try to talk to Dirk and make sure he’s...able to.

“Can you hear me?” you half-whisper, hoping that’s good enough. You can’t risk being any louder.

You can just make out a light whimpering. Oh no. No, no, no, this is bad. This is very bad. Dirk never makes noise when he’s upset. Even in the rare moments that he cries, he’s completely silent, even to a creepy extent. He must be really, really hurt to even make a sound, much less a full _whimper_.

“It’s me. Everything’s okay.” No it’s not. Stop lying to him. “I’m right here. I’ll find a way to get you out. I’ll get out of here, and I’ll find you. Then we can go home. Okay?” No. Not okay. 

The whimpering stops. That should relieve you, but it doesn’t. It terrifies you.

“No, Dirk, stay with me. Keep making sound. I want to hear you.”

Silence. You’re flipping out.

“...Dirk?”

The door slams open, and you expect to be met with some kind of punishment for trying to reach the other captive. Instead, you are face to face with a very familiar blond in a red suit.

“Karkat!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning, pretty much everything in the next few chapters are incredibly sad and horrible. Please don't read unless you feel like crying brokenly for several hours.


	19. Dave: Try and Fix It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so sad. I'm sorry. Please forgive me for everything from here on out. ;n;

Dave: Rescue your family like a boss.

And they _are_ your family. They might not have been before the past year, but they are now. You’ll be damned if you let them be harmed.

Between Sollux, Inspector Crocker, and one of the Amporas’ “family friend”s, you were able to find the kidnapper’s whereabouts with a surprising amount of ease. They had been hiding out in an abandoned motel in the rough part of town. Bro kicked the lobby’s door in, and the rescue mission just went uphill after that. 

The bastards, two of them, didn’t even have time to grab their weapons before you went batshit on them. You feel like you should’ve asked someone to hold your earrings in a stereotypical black woman’s voice before unleashing that full, unbridled Strider rage on those poor fuckers’ heads. You might have killed them, but.... Oh, well. Pyrope says she didn’t see anything.

Now’s not the time to be talking about this. Now’s the time for action. There are a few more doors left un-searched in this place, so you agree to split up. You and Bro take one side of the hallway, Eridan and Crocker take the other. You luckily manage to find Karkat in the second room you look in.

And that’s where you are now, kneeling down in front of Karkat and holding him tight like you’re the only thing keeping him from disappearing. You take your jacket off and place it on his shoulders, helping him up. 

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“I’m fine.” He doesn’t look fine. He looks upset. “Where’s Dirk? Did you get to him yet?”

“No. We’re getting right on it though.”

“Get on it faster!” Karkat hisses. “He’s fucking hurt or something!”

You freeze. “What?”

He’s panicking some now. “I don’t know, okay? H-he just.. He was making some really worrying sounds, and I heard those guys talking, so...”

“Uh, bro?” Your brother.

You turn around and almost start crying right there. Almost, but not quite. If you weren’t a Strider, you most definitely would be crying your eyes out, though.

 

 

-

 

Now you’re even closer to tears. You’re at the hospital, trying to will yourself into facing your child, knowing that in doing so, you would probably cry for the first time in....ever. Dirk’s worth it, though, so you take in the deepest breath you’ve ever taken in your life and march right into that room like you’ve done so every day for a year.

...Thank god you actually haven’t.

Good thing he’s unconscious, so that you can postpone having to talk to him about this. What would you even say? Just calmly as fuck explain to him, _oh, you were almost raped to death today, you could have died, and also did I mention that you were **raped**? Almost to fucking **death**? _ Not even Hallmark was prepared for this situation. Why? Because this sort of thing should never, _ever_ happen. Especially not to a kid.

You’ve fucked up, Strider. Big-time. You’re pretty sure that this is at the top of the list of worst things that can happen to someone, and you let it happen to your kid. Worst guardian of the year. Right. Fucking. Here.

He’s too young for this shit. He’s too young for any of the shit he’s had to deal with, really. He’s too young to be abused. He’s too young to almost be killed, god knows how many times. He’s too young not to be a virgin. Hell, he’s too young to even know that all this shit even _exists_. He’s only seven. He’s supposed to think that nothing bad ever happens to anyone in the world ever, because you’re supposed to protect him from it. And you failed him.

You wonder how this is going to affect him. You hope it doesn’t, but you know that it will. You’ve met kids in this position, and...it doesn’t look good for him. But you’re willing to do anything to make it better. You’d pick him up and hold him, but you don’t know if that would hurt him or not, so you just hold his hand. It’s so damned tiny...

“It was supposed to be me.”

You turn around. Karkat’s in the doorway, staring at the floor in tears. His voice, while bitter, remains steady.

“This,” he motions around the room, “this was supposed to be my room. That,” he points at Dirk, “was supposed to be me. This should all be happening to me.”

“Baby, no--”

“It should have been me!” Karkat shouts, teardrops now falling steadily from his eyes. “Why wasn’t it _me_?!” He breaks down into sobs, and you get up to hold him.

“Sh, don’t...”

“I was the adult,” he says, crying into your shoulder. “I could’ve handled it, it would’ve been fine, why would they--”

You take Karkat’s face into your hands, wiping a few of his tears away while you’re at it. “Look at me. It’s done now. It sucks more than anything’s ever sucked before in the universe, but it’s done. We can’t change it. All we can do now is try and fix it.”

Karkat responds by sobbing some more. It’s a good thing you still have your shades on, or he might have seen that you were crying too.


	20. Dealing

Dirk hasn’t eaten today. You should probably help him with that, since he apparently is afraid to on his own. He should be, you realize, now that every little thing makes him throw up. Stress, food...Half the time, though, it’s because he refuses to eat when it’s time to take his pain medicine. Between that and the actual effects of the medicine, your kid has been one poor, sick little baby.

You’ve never felt worse for any other living being in your life. All he’s physically and mentally capable of doing these days is lie around in your now-shared bed and stare at the TV. Even when it’s not on, which probably isn’t a good sign. He also gets scared unless either you, Karkat, or both are right there with him...Hell, he’s still scared. He’s always scared. Scared, nauseous, and in so much pain he can’t even move his legs. Poor thing has to hold a pillow between his knees to keep from crying out. 

You never, ever wanted this for him. In fact, you’d do anything to take all of this back, just rewind the clock and make it so that this never had to happen. It kills you that you can’t. So you just hold him, stroking his hair and rubbing his back, apologizing for everything and promising him that it’s going to be okay. 

Dirk hasn’t said anything. He still won’t look at you, and that alone breaks your heart.

You bring him some legos, promising that he can play with them after he eats. Dirk doesn’t even react; he just does what he’s told. It’s not like him, and you hate that. Still, he manages to get down most of the food you brought him.

You lovingly pet Dirk’s hair, praising him. “Good job, buddy. I’m so proud of you.” You give him the legos, but he doesn’t touch them. It hurts you to see him like this, too depressed to even play with his toys, but you understand. He just doesn’t feel like playing right now, and you don’t blame him. You put them away.

“Are you ready to start seeing people?” you ask, sitting down beside him. “Everybody’s worried about you. They miss you, little guy.” 

He says nothing, but looks uncomfortable.

“That’s okay. We’ll work up to it.”

 

-

 

“We’re taking him to see a professional,” Karkat tells you. 

You frown. You haven’t trusted Dirk with anyone else since...the incident. “Yeah?”

He sighs. “It’s fine, Dave. My brother technically counts as a professional, even if he _is_ a know-it-all loud-ass.”

“Alright.” You’ve never met Kankri before, but if he’s Karkat’s family, you’re inclined to trust him. Besides, you don’t deny that Dirk needs help. “We’ll go talk to him.”

 

-

 

==> Be the know-it-all loud-ass.

 

Your name is Kankri Vantas, and you are _extremely_ offended by that comment. You most certainly are not a “know-it-all”, or even a “loud-ass”, for that matter. You simply feel the need to enlighten others on certain subjects, subjects such as social matters, the inner workings of the human mind, and how the two are related, educating people on those aforementioned subjects so as to allow them to avoid making any remarks that may, without any previous knowledge on these matters, greatly offend any third party without the intent of...

All right. Maybe you _do_ have the bad habit of derailing a conversation by going off on a long-winded tangent. In your own defense, however, these “rants” of yours are of vital importance. 

....Most of the time.

It’s been ages since you’ve seen your brother, and he is contacting you at last, in need of help. You find it rude that this is the only reason that he called you, but who are you to deny him assistance? Especially under these particular circumstances. 

The boy’s name is Dirk, and he is your brother’s... at the risk of assuming the correct name for their relationship and needlessly causing a fuss that could have easily been avoided by asking what Karkat considers the boy, _child_. This would, you suppose, make him your relative, in a way. As such, this case is a personal one, and as any honest professional would insist, should probably be avoided at all cost for just this reason. Under any other circumstance, any at all, your ethics would not allow you to mix your personal life and career, but this is not something that you can just ignore. Karkat has never asked you for anything before, and you aren’t about to turn him away at a time like this. 

The child hasn’t let go of your brother since they arrived, clinging firmly to Karkat’s side as if he were afraid that in doing so, the entire world would end. His gaze is welded to the floor, and he refuses to remove it. That is, until Karkat nudges him forward, shattering his comfort zone and causing him to glance briefly up at you.

In that brief moment, you see something in the boy’s eyes. Fear, mostly. But also something else: defiance. Life. A tired, yet still unbroken spirit that lets you know that he won’t be giving up on anything anytime soon, silently daring you to try and make him.

That is when you know that he can be fixed. And you fully intend to help fix him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About therapist-Kankri... Well, I thought he'd make a good one. I mean, come on. A career centered around making people listen to you? It's his calling.


	21. All the Pretty Little Horses

==> Be Dave.

 

Dirk’s doing a lot better now. Sure, he’s not quite himself yet, and he’s silent most of the time. But at least he’s functioning again, and he’s more or less healed physically. He’s even ready to start having visitors.

One day Dirk quietly mentions missing his friends. You tell him that you’d rather not have all of them over at once yet, and he admits that he’s a little wary of it himself. You tell him that he can have one friend over today, unless he’s ready for more. He isn’t, and he chooses Jake.

The meeting goes much better than expected. You were afraid that the ever-energetic Jake would want to play more than Dirk feels like at the moment, but to your surprise, he’s content to just curl up in bed with Dirk, watching movies. You think it’s sweet that Jake understands, even though he’s probably bored as hell from sitting still for so long.

“I don’t wanna watch Avatar,” Dirk laments. “It’s like Bambi but with creepy big blue people.” That sounds a lot like something he would say, and you’re beyond glad. You think that having friends over makes him feel better, like everything’s normal again. You make a mental note to make this a regular thing.

 

-

 

Dirk sleeps in his own room tonight for the first time in months. You’ll do something for him later to show how proud you are of him, but in the meantime, you just tuck him into bed, kissing his forehead. 

A few hours later, you go to check on him, only to find him crying in his sleep. Poor little guy. You sit down with him, petting his hair and accidentally waking him up. Teary amber eyes meet your own, and you pull Dirk into your lap, holding him. It doesn’t do much.

“Did you change your mind about staying in here?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “...I just...had a dream.”

“What about?” More tears. Maybe asking wasn’t the best thing.

What do you do now? You have a crying kid in your lap, with nothing that can make him stop. Maybe if you got him to sleep... But how? Then you remember an old lullaby you remember your mom singing to you before she died, back when you were just a wee baby Dave. How did it go again? Oh. Right. 

“ _Hush-by, Don't you cry_ ,” you sing softly, feeling like an ass but swallowing your pride for Dirk. “ _Go to sleep a little baby..When you wake you shall have...All the pretty little horses..._ ”

He relaxes into your arms, pressing his little face into your shoulder.

“ _Blacks and bays, dapples and grays, Coach and six a little horses ...When you wake you shall have...All the pretty little horses.._ ”

Dirk’s asleep by now, so you decide to stop this and put him back to bed. You’re really glad all that singing wasn’t for nothing.

 

-

 

Karkat’s friend Nepeta stops by in the morning with a tiny orange kitten,   
one that Karkat explains is supposed to be for Dirk. You’re not sure what to think about this at first, but after having the adorable little bastard rub purring against your leg, you can’t say no to keeping it.

You sneak into Dirk’s room, placing the kitten on his bed without making a sound. It purrs, nuzzling his face, until Dirk wakes up. He blinks in confusion and looks up at you.

You shrug. “It’s yours.”

Dirk sits up, holding the kitten. No amount of new depression or old stoicism can mask his genuine excitement at this moment.


	22. Rock Lobster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why I named the chapter this. I am so tired, please kill me.
> 
> In other news, I'm temporarily mute, much to the amusement of my friends and relatives. I think this is God's way of punishing me for singing that "Green is not a creative color" song to everyone I know for three days in a row. I got my first warning on Thursday, when I had a fever.But I didn't listen. So, word of advice, never sing "Don't Hug Me, I'm Scared" to anyone ever. The song is cursed.

At this point, you’re convinced that everything’s gonna be fine. The progress comes along in baby steps, but it’s progress all the same, leading up to almost normality a year after what happened. You don’t fully believe this, though, until one day, you are approached by Dirk and Jane. 

“Can I go to the beach with Jane for a week?”

“Just the two of you?” 

Dirk sighs. “No, Bro. We’re not even in the fourth grade. That wouldn’t work.”

“Who’s going?”

“Everyone.”

“That sounds pretty crowded,” you joke. “I mean, _everyone_. That’s like, what, billions of people?”

He rolls his eyes, obviously unimpressed by your bullshit. “Not like _that_. Everyone, as in Jane, Jake, Roxy, Dave, John, Jade, and Roxy’s cousin Rose.”

“That’s a long list, kid. You’re right, I think you did cover everyone.”

“Everyone but me,” he adds. “Can I go?”

“Who’s taking you?”

“Jane’s dad and poppop, Dave’s bro, Roxy’s mom and Ms. Kanaya.”

“Should I be included?”

“Please don’t.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Karkat hates the beach, and you wouldn’t go without him,” Dirk tells you, as if it were a known fact of the universe and you were an idiot for having to ask. 

You shrug. “I guess I can’t argue with that. Too bad, though. I hate missing an opportunity to embarrass you in front of your friends.”

“ _Bro._ ”

He doesn’t have to tell you the real reason that he doesn’t want you to go with them, because you already know. It’s because he wants to show you (and himself) that he’s perfectly capable of doing things for himself. You’re not about to deny him that.

 

-

 

“We’ve already been over this,” Kanaya states firmly. “No cats allowed on this trip.”

“But _Mama_ ,” Roxy whines, holding up Dirk’s cat Spike. You swear the girl loves it even more than Dirk does, which is a feat in and of itself.

“No buts. I explained this to you when you attempted to smuggle Frigglish into the car via your backpack. John is allergic to cats.”

“John’s allergic to _everything_.”

You’re almost surprised to find that Kanaya is willing to chaperone this trip. Between all the sand and water, it seems as though the beach would be a guaranteed fashion hazard, but Kanaya’s combined love of children and of the sun has seemingly overpowered her obsession with her wardrobe. For now, anyway.

You glance over at Karkat as they leave. You’re a little ashamed to admit that for the past year, you’ve sort of been neglecting him in favor of fussing over Dirk. No one could blame you; you were just being a good guardian. Still, you were a downright shitty boyfriend in that time. You’ve both agreed that it officially ends this week, however, because you plan to be at it like rabbits from the second the kids depart to the moment they get back.

 

-

 

That plan doesn’t work out. Karkat gets the flu that very night causing you to abandon all romantic and/or sexual ideas in favor of taking care of him. For four days. No one prepared you for how unbelievably _bitchy_ Karkat is while sick, but you don’t mind. You love him more than you thought you could ever love anyone. He’s stayed with you through more shit than you would have otherwise been able to handle, so the least you can do is rub his back when he vomits and cover him up when he’s freezing from the fever.

You certainly wouldn’t mind if you caught it, but you don’t. You have only your immune system of steel to thank for that. The worst of the illness has passed, leaving behind a very weak and cuddle-able Karkat in its wake. 

You have him in your lap, his head on your shoulder, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist. You place a light kiss to Karkat’s lips, and he frowns.

“You’ll get it.”

“I doubt you’re contagious anymore, baby.” 

“I don’t want you kissing me if you’re gonna get sick.”

“Look, kitten. Look at all the fucks I give,” you say into his neck, kissing it and causing him to let out a half-muffled moan. “They’re falling from the sky. They’re all around us. It’s a miracle.”

“Recovering or not, I _will_ kick your ass.”

The last real words out of Karkat’s mouth before you make love on the spot.

 

-

 

Dirk comes back from the beach with a shit-ton more freckles and an entire bucket full of shells, the latter of which he proudly dumps on the kitchen counter the second he gets home.

“Hey, hey!” shouts Karkat, unpleased. “Don’t just pour them out on the counter, Jesus _Christ_! What’s wrong with you?”

Karkat has only recently decided that it’s now okay again to yell at Dirk. This shouldn’t make you as happy as it does, but it means more to you than your lover scolding your kid for being a blasé little asshole. It means that things are becoming normal again. 

What makes you even happier is the fact that Dirk doesn’t even respond to the yelling. He just shrugs, casually relating to you the events of his recent trip. “I saw some seagulls. But then John threw some sand at them since he’s afraid of seagulls, so I got pissed and we fought. Miss Kanaya made us go inside.”

“That sucks,” you tell him. “Did you win?”

“I think I did. I made him cry, but I felt bad about it. We’re cool now. Oh, and Jake found a crab.”

“Cool.”

“I wanted to bring it home for Karkat, but Roxy’s mom made us put it back.”

“Probably a good idea. I think Spike would’ve eaten it.”

“He eats everything,” Karkat adds, in the middle of removing sand from the counter.

“And Dave almost touched a jellyfish,” Dirk tells you. He pauses. “Bro, do you really have to piss on jellyfish stings to stop them from getting worse?”

You let out an amused half-laugh. “What?”

“That’s what Dave’s bro said.”

“I’m almost 100% sure Dave’s bro is full of shit,” you assure him, remembering all the absurd bullcrap your brother told you growing up (most of which you actually fell for).

Karkat shrugs. “Eridan’s friend Feferi’s studying to be a marine biologist. I’m pretty sure I heard her say that too.”

“You’re fucking with me. There’s no way something like that could even happen in real life.”

“Take that up with Feferi.” Dirk hops up on the counter, much to Karkat’s dismay. “I haven’t finished getting the sand up, you little shit! You’ll get dirty!”

“Oh well,” he says, completely ignoring his angry caregiver. “It stopped Dave from touching the jellyfish, so who cares if it’s true?”

You do, actually, but you keep quiet in favor of picking Dirk up. You suddenly have the urge to carry him around all parental and shit. Besides, Karkat looks about three seconds away from slapping a bitch if the boy isn’t removed from the counter soon.


	23. 170

“You have to talk to my school counselor,” Dirk announces suddenly one night. He doesn’t seem at all worried about it, just like he never seems worried about anything else these days. He never even looks up from his drawing.

“Why?” you ask. “Get in trouble?” Jokingly, but you _are_ worried. The last time you had to talk to his counselor, it was to inform her about what had happened to him last year in case he roundhouse kicked another kid in the face for touching him or something. You really hope that it has nothing to do with that.

Dirk shakes his head. “I’m not in trouble.” He sounds fairly sure of himself. Then again, he always does, even when what he’s saying is complete bullshit.

 

-

 

The counselor’s name is Aranea Serket, and she looks about as classy as a school counselor is supposed to. She always looks so put-together in her blue dresses and white stockings, her blonde bob never failing to be perfectly ironed into place and held off of her face by one sapphire clip. This woman is so sophisticated that she could very easily be a bitch, but she’s not. She’s actually quite nice.

“Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to speak with me today, Mr. Strider,” Aranea begins. “ I suppose that now would be a good time to explain why I called you here. I’ve noticed that Dirk is... _different_ from the other children.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” you ask.

“An _extremely_ good thing. Your son is much brighter than the others in his class, if you’ll forgive me for making the comparison. His speech patterns, his cognitive ability... He outmatches some of my own colleagues, Mr. Strider.” Aranea laughs, but something about her shows that she’s not just joking.

You feel an overwhelming pride in your kid. “Thanks. Is that all?”

“Not quite,” she says, pushing up her glasses with one finger like she’s the main antagonist of her anime. “I was feeling a bit curious, so I had Dirk complete an IQ test. Normally, I would have contacted you beforehand, but... Pardon my burning interest, but I was _not_ willing to allow you the opportunity to say no.”

“I’ll forgive you this time,” you say with a smirk. “What did the test say?”

“170,” says Aranea. You almost fall out of your chair. “I assure you that this is a quite extraordinary achievement, even for an adult.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Dirk has the potential to do all kinds of great things,” the counselor tells you. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s able to skip a grade or two right now.”

You pause. “I’m not so sure he’d like that. He has friends in his class, and I think he’d hate leaving them. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s ready to just stop all the special treatment and just live life like a normal kid.”

Aranea nods understandingly. “However, he’s probably bored of working at such a low skill-level.”

“He’s bored of everything right now, so I don’t think it’ll make that much of a difference.”

“He is?”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “Ever since last year. It’s like everything and everyone physically exhausts him with boredom. Or so I think... He’s had some problems with showing emotion lately. But, hey, it’s better than having him cry all the time.”

Aranea looks at you as though you’ve completely lost your mind. “It isn’t. How long is ‘lately’?”

You freeze. You had no idea that this was a big problem, but just judging from the troubled look on her face, it is. “Uh... A few months, maybe? Why? Is it that bad?”

“It’s one of the sadder possible effects of child abuse,” she explains. “The victim often just...stops feeling, after awhile. This isn’t as big of an issue now, however, as it could end up to be later on.”

The sinking pit in your stomach from earlier has now evolved into a sinking ravine the size of the Grand Canyon. “Why? What could happen?”

Aranea sighs, almost apologetically. “This usually leads to a variety of behaviors including but not limited to self-harm, substance abuse, and sexual promiscuity, in an attempt to ‘feel more’.”

No. No, no, no, no, there will never and can never be enough “no”s in your body to fully express how you feel at this very moment. You could in fact “nope” yourself directly into the sun, but that wouldn’t help Dirk. All you know is that this will _never_ happen to him, because you won’t let it. You’ll follow him around for the rest of his life...You will _baby-proof_ the fucking house, not allow him to date, baby him for the rest of his goddamned life before you let it happen. You’ve already failed him once; you _will not_ do it again.

“Of course,” she continues, “this also could be a later sign of depression. He is already at high risk due to his intelligence, and taking his history into account... Oh, my.” It’s never good when a therapist “oh my”s you. “If you’d like, I could get you a few numbers that might help.”

“...Thanks....” At the moment, you’re more concerned with getting home to Dirk and never letting him the fuck out of your sight.

 

-

 

When you get home, Dirk’s not moving. He’s just sitting on the couch, perfectly still, watching some movie in utter silence. _No_ little boy should _ever_ be able to do that unless he’s sick or threatened punishment by an exasperated mom. Without a word, you go to him and gather him in a chokingly tight embrace.

“Bro. Let me go.” Shit, no, that wasn’t even a whine like it should be. It was just a flat statement. Like a robot. Maybe you were stupid for overlooking the severity of this issue, you think, since that sounded fucking _awful_ just now.

“Never.” You hold him even tighter. “I love you, kid.”


	24. An Epilogue, Kind of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this isn't THE END the end. I still have a few drabble-like chapters in mind that I may turn into one-shots.... Actually, I think this might just become a series. Is that okay?
> 
> I am also now on Tumblr. Same name. (shameless self promotion)

Eight years have passed, which means that you’ve had Dirk for almost ten. It also means that you’ve been with Karkat for over nine. Looking back, it really doesn’t seem like that long, but at the same time, it seems like longer. It’s almost impossible to imagine life without them.

You’re married to Karkat now, and have been for about 6 years. Your wedding was small, yet pretty adorable, even if your flower girl was a little too old to be a flower girl and your best man tried to show up drunk and naked (before you kicked him out, “brotherly bonds” be damned). Sollux still gets pissy whenever anyone refers to him as the “maid of honor”, but not even close to as pissy as Karkat gets when you call him your wife. 

To be fair, though, that’s exactly what he is. Karkat does all of the domestic stuff like cooking, cleaning, and bitching at Dirk to do homework and clean up after himself, the usual mom shit. He also calls himself a stay-at-home parent, when in actuality all he really does all day is sleep and cry over his romance movies. And you let him, because you love the ever-living fuck out of him. Besides, it’s not like you’re not already filthy rich without him working.

Dirk’s a senior in high school now, and you don’t know how to feel about that. Wait, you know exactly how you feel. You hate it, because that means that sometime pretty soon, he won’t need you anymore. At the same time, you’re proud of him for making it this far. Not that you doubted his ability to pass school; what you mean is that you almost literally didn’t expect him to survive high school, as sad as the thought makes you.

Yeah, your boy’s had a rough few years, and you remember them painfully well. Not fondly, just well, and you almost wish that you could forget about them. There were even some trips to the emergency room... God, you’re glad the cutting stopped. It went away fairly quickly after you let Karkat talk to him about it; you’re not sure what he said, but it worked.

Still, Dirk seems pretty happy these days. Actually, you’re all pretty happy these days. Dirk has friends, and is a very active member of his school’s Engineering club. He’s also started dating the now much sought-after Jake English, and you wholeheartedly approve (since they’re so fucking cute together). Sollux and Eridan are still together, even though their entire relationship consists of excessive cuddling/making out and arguing, a combination that never fails to make everyone within a five mile radius of them uncomfortable. And on top of everything else good in the world, you now have the family you secretly always wanted, even when you were telling the world you didn’t.

It occurs to you that you could’ve missed this. Easily. There were so many tiny decisions, ones that were made sometimes even on the spur of the moment, that led to everyone’s happiness. You almost didn’t go with Bro that day. You almost turned your friend’s offer to find you a sitter down. You almost gave up on pursuing Karkat. It was all so close. You could’ve easily let all of this slip through your fingers, and now that you see what these two have done to your life, you realize that you couldn’t live without them.

All things considered, you’re pretty damned glad you decided to give parenting a shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yes, this will be a series.


End file.
